


The Recalcitrant Wife

by Lady of Spain (ladyofspain7)



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofspain7/pseuds/Lady%20of%20Spain
Summary: On the Eve of Culloden, Jamie delegates a job to Murtagh. He's to take Claire back to the stones. Only problem is, she refuses to stay away, and stubbornly returns to save Jamie from a certain death. A little thing like a British victory will not separate them, not now or ever.





	1. A Task or Murtagh

  

  

 Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander                    Banner by LOS

* * *

 

 

 

  
The sky seemed more overcast than usual, reflecting the mood of the Highlanders—and my Highlander, in particular. I wished to god that he and I weren’t privy to the horrible outcome on this field. If only Prince Charlie would go back to Italy and save the lives of these brave and honorable men, but his arrogance and stupidity were apparently the order of the day. I wasn’t really a fan of assassination, yet _Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ—somebody bloody stop the power-hungry imbecile!_

Perhaps I could season his dinner with crushed oleander if I could get close enough to him. With my luck, however, he’d have a food tester, and when the poor sod crumpled to the ground frothing at the mouth, I’d be strung up, _tout de suite_.

 

My mood was immutable; even Jamie’s entrance into the tent could not erase the gloom overshadowing me. I knew in my heart that my stubborn Scotsman would never back down, and still, I tried to reason with him. There were only two more days until the battle, and I felt the urgency eating at me. I had to persuade him to leave.

 

He cast a wan smile in my direction; those beautiful topaz eyes already haunting me.

“Sassenach, I brought us a bit o’ food.”

 

Jamie set the plate beside me on the pallet. I looked at it with revulsion. How could I sit there enjoying the cuisine when disaster was at the door? “I can’t eat, Jamie. My stomach is a tangle of knots.”

 

“Ye havta eat, a nighean, ye’ve a bairn to think ’bout, ken?”

 

Rubbing my hand over the evident bulge of my abdomen, I shot back, “Yes, but it’s your _bairn_ as well, and here you are, prepared to lay down and die for some pompous oaf, and leave your son fatherless. You know how this will end, and it’s not good.”

 

“I’ll no tell ye agin. I’m sworn to Prince Charles, and I canna step away from it. The shame o’ it would follow me to my grave.”

 

“And if you stay and fight, your _honor_ will most certainly _hasten_ you to your grave.”

 

He shook his mass of copper curls. “It canna be helped.”

 

I huffed, defeated. What more could I say? We’d been over this time and time again. I wanted to rip out my unruly hair and scream like a banshee. Highlanders … they were so unreasonable. Was it genetics?

 

Jamie knelt beside me, his face in mine. “Please, Claire. Can ye no eat a wee bite or two? There’s nay sense in starvin’ yerself to spite me.”

 

“Is that what you think I’m doing? It’s not; it’s this idiotic notion that you’re going as a lamb to the slaughter, knowing full well that you won’t come out alive. It’s leaving my nerves jangling on end. I feel as if I may fly apart like fraying the seams in a skirt. Jamie … I don’t want to go on living without you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

 

“Aye, but I canna see a way to put an end to it. I’m conscripted to lead my men, and I willna do otherwise.”

 

Sighing, I held back tears that were threatening to fall and picked at my food. Jamie collapsed beside me, sitting cross-legged, and helped himself to some bread, and roasted yams.

 

**. . . . .**

I hated for the day to end—it would bring me that much closer to the clans’ demise, and the death of Scottish tradition. But end it did, and Jamie slipped in beside me on the fur pallet.

 

We made love that fateful night, and my Scotsman was exceptionally attentive and tender. I clung to him afterwards, imagining that in doing so, I could stretch out the night, making this moment in time endure forever, and Jamie wouldn’t have to leave me.

**# # # # #**

Resigned to the fact as this would be the last time to bed my wife, I determined to love her wi’ ever’ cell o’ my body. I reveled in her scent, and the feel o’ her hair and soft skin. I listened intently to the wee noises as came from her throat as her passion grew. I would greatly miss all o’ that if I continued this sojourn o’ life; my death the only escape from such torture.

 

When we were spent, I was disinclined to separate from her and held my Sassenach tightly ’til I felt she had fallen asleep. As for me, I couldna welcome the respite o’ sleep, for I kent what must be doon on the followin’ morn.

 

My heart was full and I wished to tell Claire how much lovin’ her meant to me. The three years past were the verra best part o’ my life, and so I could lay down my body for Prince Charlie wi’ nary a regret, except for ne’er bein’ able to see my bairn. I kent as I truly would look down from heaven on him ever’ day o’ his life.

 

Much as I tried to abstain from slumber, the day’s exhaustion crept opon me, and I drifted into blessed oblivion, no awakenin’ ’til the dawn broke. Kissin’ her brow afore leavin’ our shelter, I sought the campfire to obtain some breakfast and brought it wi’ me to the tent.

 

After eatin’, I watched Claire as she dressed, her brown mass o’ curls all wild ’bout her face. I committed that image to memory, swallowin’ past the obstructin’ lump in my gullet; perhaps it would sustain me when the battle raged on the moor. Wi’ a deep breath o’ courage, I exited through the tent flap in search o’ my godfather, Murtagh. I couldna trust the task to anyone else.

 

I found him in the stable, curryin’ his horse. “Murtagh,” I intoned, “I have need o’ ye.”

 

He turned round, the brush in his hand. “What is it then?”

 

“I canna abide Claire to witness my death, for surely it will come to pass. So, I have a mind for ye to take her back to Craigh na Dun. I told ye once ’bout her slippin’ through the stones and comin’ to us. If ye believed me or no, yet it is true.  She must return to her own time, and I’m askin’ this favor o’ ye. I canna leave the men. If I should be gone for any length, they may lose heart and ken as I’d deserted them. Do I have yer word as ye would see to it?”

 

“Aye,” he answered. “It would be my honor.”

 

“I thank ye truly, Murtagh.”

 

He patted me on the shoulder and said, “I best get Brimstone and Trom Laighe saddled and ready then, aye?”

**. . . . .**

I took Claire by the hand and led her out into the open. She looked op at Murtagh and the two horses, with a mixture o’ confusion and fear.

 

“What is this about?” she shouted, her face hardened in determination.

“I’ve asked Murtagh to return ye to yer own time.” I put out my palm to stop her from arguin’.  “Aye, he kens that weel. O’ a surety … on the morrow, the battle will bring me to the end o’ my life, and I willna have ye in harm’s way on that bluidy field. Ye must away from this place afore it’s too late. I wish ye and the bairn to be safe, aye?”

 

She straightened—the stubborn woman. “Well, I’m not going, and that’s that. You and your Highland idiots need me to tend to their wounds.”

 

“I’ll no contest wi’ ye, Sassenach. Ye’re goin’.”

 

Claire backed op, meanin’ to run, I expect. I nodded to Mutagh, and he grabbed her afore she could get two paces away. She struggled, hissin’ at us. “Jamie Fraser. I won’t go. You can’t bloody well make me.”

 

“I can, and ye will.”

 

I took a rope from one o’ the saddlebags and began to tie her feet t’gether.

 

She kicked at me whilst my cousin held her to keep her still. “No—no! Jamie, please, don’t do this.”  

**# # # # #**

For a little, wiry man, Murtagh was strong. I fought with all my might to rid myself of the human manacles, but to no avail. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ—Jamie was winding a rope around my feet. He was adamant about me leaving him to his fate. My heart was pounding so hard, I could hear it thundering in my ears. I ultimately surrendered and gave up my wriggling. My Scotsman then drew me to his chest, “Claire … I need to see ye safe, ken. This moor will be a killin’ field mornin’ next. I canna save myself, but I’ll be damned if I let ye and the bairn fall wi’ me. I love ye, mo nighean donn.”

 

“Then let me stay and die with you.”

 

“Nay.”

 

Tipping my head up, I gazed at him, noting his lake-blue eyes drowning in tears. With my arms about his neck, I met his sweet lips, for one last kiss. He then pulled my hands down, and voice cracking, said, “Goodbye, my Sassenach. Tell our bairn ’bout me, aye?” He forced a smile, and told his cousin, “Take her, Murtagh.”

 

I refused to move. Jamie sighed, and scooping me up in his arms, deposited me on Brimstone’s back. Murtagh climbed into Trom Laighe’s saddle, and took my reins, as Jamie slapped my animal’s rump. As the beasts moved forward, I watched over my shoulder at my ginger-haired lover until he faded from view.

**. . . . .**

 

After about an hour of traveling, Murtagh untied my feet, so I could straddle Brimstone. The pace of the horses sped up now that I was allowed to control the reins.

 

My captor scowled at me. “Dinna be tryin’ to outrun me, Claire. I swore to yer husband to deliver ye to the stones. I’ll shoot the horse out from under ye, if I must.”

 

“I don’t doubt it,” I muttered angrily.

 

We rode in silence all the way to the majestic monoliths, but my brain was all the while conjuring up a plan to thwart my husband. I’d show him.

 

**. . . . .**

Murtagh tethered the horses and helped me down from my animal. “Go to, Lass. I expect ye ken what must be doon.”

 

I swatted his hand away and walked toward the stones, glaring at them. Looking back at my dour warden, I huffed and placed my hands on the face of the nearest. The wind howled, and the humming began. The last thing I heard was a startled gasp from Murtagh, as I shimmered before him, traveling through the rift and on to another time plane.

 

**# # # # #**

Murtagh returned early that evenin’, leadin’ Trom Laighe. I wondered where Brimstone had got to, but I wished to hear his report first. “Ye were right, Jamie. I didna believe it was true, but I saw wi’ my own eyes. The lass was gone. I waited an hour to be certain. So, I expect it went weel.”

 

We walked t’gether to the stable, when I asked, “Where is Brimstone?”

 

“Och … sorry to say, the beast got spooked by a buck as ran across our path. I had all I could do to rein in my own horse, and Brimstone, I’m afeared, galloped away back toward the hill. I imagined ye’d want me here to be at your side, and no traipsin’ ’bout the highlands searchin’ for the bluidy mare.”

 

“Ah, weel. By this time day next, we’ll all be fertilizin’ the field wi’ our blood. What need o’ horses will we have then, aye?” I handed my flask of whiskey to my godfather. He took a good swig and passed it back to me.

 

“Jamie, I just wanted ye to know, ye did the right thing. Claire was a great woman and healer. I ken as ye loved her dearly, but this is nay a place for her. Ye canna defend yerself and protect her as weel.”

 

“Aye.” Claire and our child were safe, but still, I fell to my knees and wept at the loss o’ her. Murtagh stayed wi’ me ’til my tears dried, and I was no ashamed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Culloden

 

 

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander                                          Banner by LOS

**. . . . .**

 I lay on that blasted hilltop for heaven knows how long, and awoke with a start. My head ached, and my brain was decidedly fuzzy about how I came to be here. Disoriented, I sat up, and looking around, noted the placement of telephone poles. Bloody hell, the memories now came flooding back, much to my consternation.

  
My kingdom for a wristwatch … I had no idea what time it was, or even how to discern it. I stood up, wobbly at first, and brushed the dried grass from my woolen skirt. The highway was visible from where I stood, so I ventured down the knoll, perchance I could flag down a passing vehicle and ask for the time of day. Ironically, I thought it would behoove me to ask about the year also; that would certainly be an interesting conversation, one that I imagine would have me speedily encased in a straightjacket. lay on that blasted hilltop for heaven knows how long, and awoke with a start. My head ached, and my brain was decidedly fuzzy about how I came to be here. Disoriented, I sat up, and looking around, noted the placement of telephone poles. Bloody hell, the memories now came flooding back, much to my consternation.

Sauntering along the roadway, I heard the roar of an engine and quickly waved to the oncoming driver. He stopped fortunately, gave me an odd look, but politely answered my inquiry. It was a few minutes after the noon hour. All I had to do now was to wait awhile to be sure that Murtagh was on his way back to Culloden field. It would be a pity to slip through the stones once more only to be met by that irascible little man.

I spotted a few large-sized boulders set back from the highway that seemed suitable for a resting place, and I needed to be well rested if I had to hoof it all the way to Culloden. A number of automobiles drove by, the passengers glancing at the lady in the peculiar clothing that was sitting on a rock. I probably would have done the same were I in their shoes.

**. . . . .**

It was terribly vexing to sit here doing nothing. I had to get back; surely an hour had passed by now. Flagging down the next vehicle, I was told that it was indeed half-past one.

Fairly flying to the summit of the hill, I retraced my steps to transport myself to 1746, and successfully completed that mission.

The wind had a biting chill to it, so it roused me more rapidly than in my previous attempt to skip time.  The area momentarily appeared to be deserted, and one man, in particular, was nowhere to be seen. Eureka, I’d done it, now I could hurry along, anxious to journey to my destination.

How long would it take to reach the battlefield, I wondered? My legs and feet were already beginning to ache, despite the fact that I was used to walking great distances. Night was fast approaching, and my stomach was growling in protest, my throat parched from want of water.

Up ahead, I heard a faint whinnying and the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves. Should I hail whoever it was, or skitter away for cover? Even with a war on, there were still brigands abounding in these parts. Lovely … I hid behind a tree waiting for the mystery rider to pass.

The animal came closer, and I noticed there was no one at the reins. The beast looked strikingly familiar to me. All at once, I realized, _oh—bless her russet hide, it’s Brimstone_.

Clicking my tongue, I stepped gingerly toward her. I grabbed the bridle and patted her neck. “How did you get here, Brim? Did you run away … huh? No matter, we’ll go the way you came. You’re such a braw girl. Yes, you are.”

**. . . . .**

Brimstone appeared to be just as exhausted as I was, for she walked along at a leisurely pace. Time was of the essence, and the animal’s slow steady gait annoyed me to no end.

Anxiety aside, I felt myself nodding off, and once, nearly slid from the saddle. I wouldn’t be any use to the Highlanders if I fell off my horse and broke a bone or two. I scoped out a secluded place to take a short nap and hobbled my steed.

Feeling refreshed after the respite of sleep, I climbed aboard Brimstone and led her to a stream I heard rushing nearby. I let her drink her fill, then replenished the supply in my canteen. I splashed some on my face and was again up to the challenge of reaching the battle.

I rode the rest of the night until finally, I was startled by the sound of several booms in quick succession, though it was still some ways off. Was that cannon fire? Digging my heels into the horse, I urged her on. The battle had started without me, and panic was beginning to set in. _Dear Lord, please watch over and protect my Jamie._

**# # # # #**

Dawn had broken, and a messenger came to the tent. British soldiers were seen linin’ op on the opposite side o’ the field. I called to muster my men. Murtagh was immediately at my side. He’d sworn an oath to always watch my back, and I didna doubt as he’d perform that duty on this verra day.

Wi’ swords thuddin’ loudly on their shields, the Highlanders followed my lead. Several other companies were in the forefront and were struck down by cannon shot, like a line of wee, wooden soldiers. Then the Sassenachs let loose with a volley o’ gunfire, the projectiles rippin’ through our ranks; takin’ us down as a scythe in a stand o’ grain. Our swords and dirks were useless agin’ the rifles. Claire was right—it was a bloody massacre. We would all die, yet we fought on in a _forlorn hope_ , wi’out retreatin’.

The smoke was blindin’ and I thought I’d choke opon the cloud o’ it. The noise o’ the muskets stopped o’ a sudden, and the enemy charged, bayonets at the ready. I fought them off, panting in a desperate whirl, slicing wi’ my sword at anathin’ in a red coat. Half a dozen o’ the British were dead at my feet, but in the chaos, I sensed someone. Strainin’ my eyes, lookin’ through the curtain o’ billowin’ haze, I saw him racing toward me … Captain Black Jack Randall.

He lunged at me wi’ a cruel sneer opon his lips. We then danced to the song o’ Mars as we circled each other, my broadsword parryin’ the blade o’ his bayonet. Randall taunted me, sayin’, “At last we meet on equal grounds, you belligerent pup. Recite your papist prayers, for you’re gravely mistaken if you think to leave this field alive. I’ll not allow that. It shall give me great pleasure to gut you from throat to groin.”

I canted my head, grinnin’ at the fool. “So say ye, Randall. If die I must, I’ll still be draggin’ ye to hell wi’ me, ken?”

All ’round me, screams and grunts pierced the air, yet it was as if Randall and I were the only combatants left on the field, in a fierce contest o’ cunnin’, agility, and brute strength. He was quick wi’ his weapon, but I had the size, gift o’ youth and Highland endurance.  I wouldna let him kill me so easily. I would fight wi’ all as was in me, for Claire, my bairn, Lallybroch, and Scotland.

I expect as Randall was beginnin’ to tire, and I pushed my advantage attemptin’ to wear him down further. I drew blood at his shoulder, the stain coursin’ through the sleeve o’ his uniform. In his rage, he bounded toward me, and his feint caused me to slip on the blood-slicked grass and tumble backward o’er a fallen enemy. As I lay there, my body exposed, he saw his opportunity and took it, tearin’ a great gash in my left thigh, flayin’ it open. I screamed wi’ the pain and closed my eyes. I kent as my life on this earth would soon end. He came in closer, preparing to deliver the death blow. I felt the point o’ the bayonet o’er my heart and heard his gloatin’ laughter o’er his good fortune. At that verra moment, a Highland war cry ripped through the air. I opened my eyes to witness Murtagh chargin’ at the man, skewerin’ the blackheart like a kilt rabbit on a spit.

Randall dropped to his knees, a surprised expression on his face. Spewing blood, he landed on top o’ me. Afore I passed out, I saw my cousin embroiled in battle wi’ three other redcoats, chasin’ them and whoopin’ like a devil on fire, ’til he vanished from my sight.

Later, when my eyes flickered open, I felt somethin’ heavy pressing agin’ my breast and pushed it aside. It was that filthy Sassenach, Randall.

The blood was still pourin’ from my injured thigh. I was ready to meet my maker, but Murtagh appeared wi’ a sack stuffed wi’ moss and such, which he packed into the wound to stanch the flow. “The battle’s o’er, Jamie. There’s no much o’ us left alive. I expect ye’ll be all right though. I’m gonta search the moor for Angus and Rupert, then come back for ye.”

I blinked back tears, happy to see as my cousin was sound. “Ye saved my life, Murtagh.”

Murtagh nodded, and squeezed my shoulder.  “And I’d do it agin, aye? Ye’re like a son to me. I canna let ye die if I can be o’ any help for it. It’d be an affront to the memory o’ yer dear mother.” He crossed himself, and added, “May she rest in peace.”

The throbbin’ pain in my leg was flarin’ op somethin’ fierce. I grit my teeth, tryin’ no to cry out, leastwise a few sounded anaways. I wished for Murtagh to return, as I didna want to shame myself afore the other injured men. My only comfortin’ thought was as my Sassenach was safe away from this bluidy place.

**# # # # #**

The nearer I got to the field, the louder the sounds of the battle pounded in my ears. Then, the cacophonous din of war totally ceased. Was it over already? Despite the smoky haze, I could make out Culloden just over the next ridge. I kicked at my horse’s flanks, coaxing her into a gallop. As soon as I reached the edge of the grassy plain, I slid down from the saddle, leading her by the bridle, and quickly tethered her to a sapling.

The view before me was a grisly scene, with puddles of blood soaking the earth, and heaps of dead and dying bodies, and body _parts,_ strewn helter-skelter over the moor. I had no idea where to start in my search for Jamie. I scurried—my medical box securely strapped to one shoulder—to look at every fallen soldier, scanning the area carefully for him. As time went on, tears began streaming down my cheeks while I continued the grueling task. I flit in desperation, from man to man, flipping the Scotsmen onto their backs so I could look into their faces.

A loud huff sounded behind me as I struggled to untangle an exceptionally heavy man trapped beneath a redcoat. Looking back, I was amazed to see Murtagh, much the worse for wear, but entirely intact, standing there glaring at me. “Jesus, Mary and Bride. How is it as ye’re here, when I saw ye disappear afore my verra eyes.”

“I assure you that you are not hallucinating in the least. I did travel back to my own time, but I had to return. Jamie needs me,” I choked out. “Now, where is he, Murtagh? Please tell me that he’s still alive.”

“Oh, aye, but he’s in a bad way.”

“Take me to him,” I pleaded. Murtgh took the lead, heading to the north corner.

**. . . . .**

As we traversed the field, I listened to a cry of agony; the sound unmistakably came from Jamie. I now began running in earnest toward the voice.

Jamie was unconscious when I finally knelt down beside him. His face was streaked with dirt and blood, and tears, and his thigh displaying a gaping wound filled with leaves and moss. His godfather explained that he had done it the only way he could, to stop the bleeding. He had succeeded, but it would require disinfection, a task I had no time for at the moment. The redcoats were combing the area, collecting the wounded British and Scottish infantry alike, hauling the _traitors_ off to prison, and the victors to a field hospital. Most likely there would be a burying detail as well. I remembered seeing the stone monuments to the clans in one of Frank’s historical tomes.

Murtagh gestured to me. “I’ll leave ye here wi’ him for a bit. I’ve borrowed a supply wagon wi’ food, and clothes and such. I still havta hitch up the horses tho’. Did ye by chance find Brimstone in yer travels?”

I jerked my chin in the direction of the tents. “Yes, she’s tied up by some larches near the camp.”

“I’ll see to it then. I expect we’ll be in need o’ help gettin’ the lad into the cart.” He retrieved Jamie’s dirk and sword, hefting it in his hands, and sliding the smaller weapon into his belt. “Maybe I can persuade a few redcoats to aid in that … at the point o’ my pistol, aye.”

“What about Rupert and Angus?” I asked. “Can’t they assist us?”

Looking at the ground, Murtagh shook his head sadly. “Nay. They’re gone, Lass … dead.”

My heart stopped for a beat. “Oh god, please don’t tell that to Jamie yet. He’s got enough to worry about.”

“I ken as that would be best for a while.”

Murtagh took off to bring the horses and conscript an unlikely candidate to help deposit Jamie in the escape vehicle. In the meantime, awake or not, I ran my fingers over his hair, cooing words of comfort to my poor, battered warrior.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. A Healing Touch

  

 

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* * *

 

Murtagh returned promptly, leading the horse-drawn dray, and urging a young man—obviously a soldier for the other side, by the color of his uniform—with the enticement of a loaded pistol prodding him in the back.

"I’m so sorry,” I told him, “but I need your aid in getting my husband on this wagon.”

 

He bowed, politely. “At your service, ma’am, although I do object to the method of securing my presence here.”

The man stumbled forward as Murtagh shoved him, saying, “Ye’d do the same, I expect, if it was one o’ yer own. Now get movin’, we’ve nay time to waste, yappin’ our gums.”

Jamie moaned as his cousin and the redcoat eased him onto the bed of the cart. After he was situated there, I glanced at Murtagh, who had a murderous look in his eye. He wouldn’t, would he?

My eyes widened in shock, aghast at the prospect. “You don’t mean to kill him, do you? The war is finished; he’s no longer your enemy. My god, Murtagh, he’s just a boy.”

He cocked his weapon, and the soldier turned pale as a sheet. “Aye, a boy in a red coat, and that makes him verra dangerous. I canna have the wean shoutin’ the alarm. They’d be on us like ants on a hill o’ sweets.”

Putting my hand on his, I said, “Surely there has to be some other way.”

“Och … ye’re too soft, Lass.” He thumped him on the back of the head with the butt of his gun, and the boy dropped to the grass like a sack of grain, senseless.

“Thank you.”

Murtagh made one of those disgruntled Scotch noises, and I hopped aboard the wagon myself, cradling Jamie’s head in my lap.

**. . . . .**

We were on the road for an hour or so, when Jamie began to stir. He had twitched and moaned for the last several miles, but I was afraid he would be thoroughly roused in the following minutes. My medicinal bag was within arm’s length, and I pulled it to me, reaching inside for the bottle of laudanum. The cart wasn’t entirely steady due to the ruts in the bloody highway, and I’d be damned if I let a drop of the precious liquid spill onto the wooden bed of the wagon. There were only a few drams left, and I at least needed some opiate to dull the pain as I sutured the edges of the wound together.

“Murtagh!” I yelled, over the jingling of the harnesses, and clatter of the hooves. “Can you curb the horses for a bit? I need to give Jamie some painkiller, and the constant jerking of this crate is going to splatter the medicine everywhere.”

He peered over his shoulder; the ever-present scowl on his face. “Aye, but dinna take yer time, we need to be at the hideaway soon, else his wound will start to fester.”

The dray pulled to the side of the road and came to a halt. I uncorked the vial, and with one hand behind his neck, lifted Jamie’s head. He whimpered, and his head rolled from side to side, a grimace taking up his face.

“Jamie, you have to drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”

I pressed the lip of the bottle to his mouth, and he sputtered, but finally swallowed some. I hoped there was enough left for the grueling procedure ahead. “How much farther?” I asked.

“Just a few more miles, I expect.”

“How do you know the place won’t be swarming with redcoats?”

“I dinna ken for certain.” With that, he turned back around, and clicked his tongue, flicking the reins at the animals.

“Lovely …” I murmured to no one in particular.

**# # # # #**

Was I dreamin’? Was that Claire’s voice as I heard? It couldna be. She was weel away from here. Yet, if it was a dream, it was a verra pleasurable one. I felt the softness o’ her thighs beneath my head, and tho’ my wound grieved me so, still, it was a comfort to me. There was a jostlin’, and creakin’ of wooden wheels. I was in a cart then, and wi’ ever’ movement, my leg seized me wi’ such distress. I must’ve cried out, as someone administered a wee bit o’ medicine to my lips, and I began to feel the pain slowly fade to a tolerable level.

I didna sense as I was bleedin’ anamore. Murtagh did a braw job o’ stoppin’ it, but I couldna move from weakness. My eyelids seemed to be stuck t’gether, as weel; leastwise, the weight o’ them seemed to have grown a smite, so as I was no able to open them.

Ever’thin’ went black agin, and I didna ken whether I be alive or no. I felt the motion o’ the cart cease, and voices surroundin’ me as in a dream.

**# # # # #**

At least Murtagh had the wherewithal to realize what misery each bump and jerk caused his godson, and so he carefully navigated the roadway. Nevertheless, we arrived at the cabin way before dark, despite traveling so slowly.

Now that we were safely deposited at our destination, I wondered how in the bloody hell we were going to transfer Jamie from the cart to the cabin. Although Murtagh displayed enormous strength, he was small in stature, and well … I would hazard to say I wasn’t exactly the epitome of an Amazon myself.

After checking the interior of the bungalow for enemy _vermin_ , Murtagh originated the idea of stripping the mattress from the bed and sliding it under Jamie, then towing it like a sled into the house.

**. . . . .**

Murtagh pulled a tarpaulin from a saddle bag stored in the corner of the wagon and spread it over the mattress. His foresight proved invaluable.

“Ye’ll need to clean out all the moss and such from the wound,” he explained. “I thought ye might no wish to get the beddin’ wet, aye?”

I complimented him for his ingenuity. “Clever man.”

We lugged the pad onto the dray and rolled Jamie side to side forcing it under him. That was the easy part. Then we had to slide it carefully to the edge and lower it to the ground. From there we dragged him through the door and into one of the two bedrooms.

I set Murtagh to work, filling buckets of water from a stream running down the gulley at the back of the house, while I gathered wood to build a fire. We hurried to get it done. The water needed to be as sterile as possible to irrigate the wound. There was a big copper kettle hanging on a hook over the hearth, which served as a receptacle for the irrigant. I let the liquid boil for several minutes, then took it outside to cool, pouring a sufficient amount in a smaller container first to prepare my curved needles, thread for suturing and other instruments as well.

His godfather stood by, anticipating my instructions. “Murtagh, can you lift his head? I want to give him some more laudanum.”

The man did as I asked, and this time, Jamie didn’t fight me, but drank the proffered fluid.

Waiting another twenty minutes or so for the drug to take effect, I, in the meantime, covered a serving tray with some of the whiskey from Jamie and his cousin, let it dry, and laid out my primitive surgical equipment. I was ready, but was Jamie?

My Scotsman, bless his heart, whimpered very little during the ordeal of being transferred from the vehicle to the house, but when I began removing the rudimentary packing and started to irrigate the wound, he awoke with a vengeance, screaming curses in Gaelic.

Murtagh!” I yelled. “Hold him steady.”

He tightened his grip on Jamie’s shoulders, pinning him down to the canvas. “Ye need to be still now, Lad. Claire canna put ye to right if ye squirm ’bout.”

**# # # # #**

**“** Christ, did ye say, Claire?” I opened my eyes, blinkin’ at the lass. “I canna believe my eyes. Can ye ne’er stay put, woman?”

“No, not when your life depended on it. Now, stay still. I’m sorry ... this is going to hurt.”

She poured some whiskey o’er my thigh, and I grit my teeth, wincin’, and gaspin’ once or twice, but I ne’er moved a muscle. “Aye. That hurt, sure enough.”

“I’ve only got a little amount of Laudanum left. Do you want it now, or save it for later.”

I smiled op at her. “Later, I’ll have a bit o’ the whiskey tho’.”

Claire gestured to my godfather, who handed me his flask. I took a couple o’ swigs, and winked at her, sayin’, “Get on wi’ it, Lass. Je suis prest …as I’ll e’er be.”

She turned to my cousin. “Murtagh, can you give him something to bite on?”

He cut off a wee shred o’ leather from his coat and handed it to me. I took a deep breath and bit down on it. Murtagh squeezed my leg in from the sides so as the edges o’ the gash would line op properly. With a nod to Claire, I closed my eyes, tears escapin’ from the corners as she sewed me back t’gether.

Wi’ the handiwork doon, she soaked my thigh with more whiskey. She had nay bandages wi’ her and so, she tore off strips from her petticoat, and wrapped my leg wi’ it, to prevent the stitch-work from tearin’ apart, and the wound gapin’ open agin, I expect.

The two o’ them hauled the mattress from t’other room, and placed it on the bedframe, along wi’ the blankets and such. Claire sopped op the wet from the oilcloth I’d been layin’ opon, then she and Murtagh used it to lift me onto the bed, rollin’ me like a felled log, to remove it afterward.

When my cousin took the remainin’ mattress back to the room, Claire sank down to the edge o’ the bed, and rested her hand opon my cheek, gently strokin’ it. “Oh, Jamie, you gave me quite a scare.”

“And ye scairt me as weel. I thought maybe as I was dead, and ye were an angel sent to guide me thru the pearly gates, but when Murtagh said yer name, och … I kent as I was still alive and ’bout to experience a bit more misery, aye?”

“I’m sorry I had to hurt you.”

I grabbed her hand, and lifted it to my lips, “Ye did what was necessary, and I thank ye for it, Sassenach. I’m verra glad ye came back. I suppose this time I can forgive ye for disobeyin’ me … but dinna be makin’ a habit o’ it, mind.”

# # # # #

I stood, realizing the poor man hadn’t eaten anything since before the bloody battle. Granted, neither had Murtagh nor I. His hand shot out grabbing mine. “Please ... Claire, dinna leave. Stay wi’ me awhile.”

“I’m just going to get some dinner gathered together. You can’t heal if you don’t eat.”

A head of stringy brown hair appeared in the doorway. “Nay, Lass. I’ll see to it. Ye best stay wi’ the lad. Ye can see as he sorely needs ye.”

I thought about what Murtagh said. He was absolutely right. It’s not like the food sitting out in the wagon required a woman’s touch. There were apples, bread, a heel of hard cheese, smoked eel, and of course, some ale; not exactly what some would consider fine cuisine.

The wiry little man brought in the sack of food and portioned it out on tin plates he’d procured from the kitchen cupboards.

While he was busy cobbling up dinner—such as it was—I had a cloth seeped in the remaining water, and dabbed at Jamie’s face and hands, wiping away traces of blood, dirt and well-earned tears. His eyes traveled over my features, and suddenly the emotions that so far I had successfully controlled that day, burst forth, and I slumped down to the mattress in sobs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. A Trip to Lallybroch

  

         Banner by LOS

**. . . . .**

Jamie pulled on my arm, positioning me so he could see my face. “Dinna cry, Sassenach, I canna stand it. Leastwise, I havena left this earth yet, so there’s nay need o’ it.”

“But if I hadn’t come back …”

“Then ye wouldna ken for certain as I wasna more, and ye’d go on wi’ yer life, as afore ye e’er lit eyes on me.”

“That I could never do, if I lived to be a hundred.”

His eyes grew round. “But ye have a husband waitin’ for ye in yer own time.”

“As you can clearly see, I’m not with him now. I came back to you.”

“Aye, and I see as ye love me, truly, and glad I am o’ it.”

Murtagh cleared his throat to signal that he was here with the food. “Thank you, Murtagh. You may set them down on the dresser. I’ll make sure he eats.”

He placed it on the surface and smiled at Jamie. “How is it, Lad? Are ye feelin’ proper agin?”

“Oh aye, my leg hurts like a bugger, but I ken as it wilna spoil my appetite.”

“Good.” Murtagh turned to leave the room.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” I asked.

“I’d feel a might safer if I took my dinner wi’ me outside; my pistol as weel. The redcoats are no likely to find us here, but I’ll keep a sharp lookout all the same.”

**# # # # #**

The night came, and Sassenach was busy putterin’ ’bout, fixin’ op my pillow, and rearrangin’ the blankets. I was surprised tho’ when she laid her pillow and some beddin’ from the storage shelves opon the floor.

“What’s amiss, a nighean?”

“Nothing … I just don’t wish to jostle you about, and cause you more misery.”

“D’ye mean to sleep apart from me, then?”

She looked op from her task on the floor. “Of course. You need your rest.”

“I’ve slept wi’ ye in the same bed, nigh on three years and then some, and I’ll no stop now.”

“But …”

“Nay, I’ll no be able to sleep wi’ ye down there. Come here. I need ye beside me.”

Claire gave me a querulous look, and I kent what she was thinkin’. “Dinna fash, ’bout me, woman. If ye want me to sleep this night, I expect ye’d best slide under the covers.”

**. . . . .**

The cautious lass crept onto the mattress so as to cause as little motion as necessary. Then she lay there stiff as a piece o’ timber. “Sassenach—ye willna break anathin’; it’s only my leg is injured, ken. Now, I’d be pleased if ye’d touch me, and lay yer head opon my shoulder.”

“I’m so afraid of hurting you,” she whispered.

“It’s more hurtful to my mind as we’re t’gether abed, yet apart.”

She gently rested her head and hand opon my chest, and I stroked her hair, contented. “There now; havin’ ye here like this is better than all the laudanum in the world.”

**# # # # #**

The next morning, I fixed breakfast, and Jamie let me this time. After we’d eaten our fill, I unwrapped his leg and applied a poultice consisting of burdock, rosemary and calendula—rosemary for the pain, and burdock and calendula for their healing and antiseptic properties. That done, I placed a clean bandage over it and crossed my fingers.

When I finished caring for Jamie’s wound, Murtagh who had been helping me, lowered the leg. “We urgently need to transport him to Lallybroch before fever sets in, and it will, most certainly,” I explained.

“Aye, it would be good to have the lad among his own kin as weel… nay offense to ye, Claire.”

“None taken. It also would be that much more complicated to move him if he’s become delirious with fever.”

Jamie pulled on Murtagh’s sleeve. “Do the two o’ ye forget as I’m right here privy to yer conversation?”

His godfather scowled at him. “If ye’ve somethin’ to say, then say it, Lad.”

Playfully winking, Jamie said, “I expect as we’d best get on wi’ it, aye.”

Murtagh huffed, then asked, “Can ye walk, d’ye think? I don’t suppose as we could manage to pull yer hulkin’ arse op into that bluidy wagon. It was near disaster goin’ down; it wilna be that much easier haulin’ ye op.”

“Oh, aye, I can manage if I put my mind to it.” He grinned, eliciting a rude Scottish noise from his cousin.

“Och, I shouldha left ye in the dray last e’en’,” he snorted. “We wouldna be havin’ this damn discussion if I had.”

Putting an end to that _discussion_ , I told Jamie, “Your godfather and I will serve as crutches.”

With a nod to me, Murtagh helped Jamie sit up, and we each burrowed under his arms. “Dinna be puttin’ weight on yer leg now … let yer wife and I bear it for ye.”

Jamie turned his head toward his cousin; one eyebrow quirked, “Dinna fash, Murtagh. I’m no a hopeless muckleheid … yet.”

He gingerly hobbled to the wagon with our assistance. Murtagh and I then slid our arms, interlocked, under his rear end, and hoisted him onto the cart without undue difficulty.

After Jamie was situated, Murtagh smoored the fire in the hearth while I nicked the pillow and blankets off the bed we’d slept in. Laying the cushion under my sweetheart’s head, I tucked the covers around him, and we were on our way.

**# # # # #**

Did we havta lurch along and fall into e’er single ditch and rut on the highway? Wi’ ever’ jolt o’ the dray, my leg throbbed so as I couldna contain my cries o’ pain. My teeth were clenched tight, but the expletives spewed from my mouth despite it.

I shouted to him, “Christ, Murtagh, d’ye suppose ye might avoid one or two pits in the road, or are ye doin’ it a’purpose?”

Murtagh looked o’er his shoulder, his face more dour than e’er. “Och … so ye think ye can do better, aye? Come op here and take the reins, then.” He continued mutterin’ away in Gaelic so Claire wouldna ken what he said.

“I would, I expect, save my lovely wife would frown opon it.”

Sassenach touched my cheek. “I’m sure he’s doing everything in his power to get us to Lallybroch as comfortably and safely as possible.”

“And doin’ a piss-poor job o’ it to be sure.”

“Jamie … He saved your life.”

“Aye, and now he’s tryin’ to end it.”

Claire started to rise. “Maybe I should spell him for a while.”

“Nay, ye stay put, woman. I’ll no stare into his ugly face when I can have an angel to look at.

“Murtagh,” I yelled agin. “I’m sorry for my harsh words. I didna mean it. It’s this damnable agony rippin’ ’bout in my leg.”

“I kent as that was the reason. Nay hard feelin’s, aye?”

From thence, he navigated more carefully, leastwise the bouncin’ seemed a wee bit less, or perhaps it was Claire’s hand clingin’ fast to mine as made it appear so.

**# # # # ##**

We rode all night long.

I felt helpless with every wince and groan coming from Jamie. I had nothing to give him to stave off the pain, except for my fingers brushing his forehead, and patting his arm. I lay beside him, exhausted, as the night wore on, and heard him elicit a sigh. Dammit, when would we get to his blasted estate? And poor Murtagh … I had seen him nodding off occasionally. I imagined him falling off the cart at any moment, and cracking his skull open by the side of the road, as if I didn’t have enough on my mind.

As much as I fought it, sleep overtook me. I awoke with the sky beginning to turn hues of pink and apricot. So, the dawn broke, and soon after, the wagon pulled to a halt. We’d made it.

**. . . . .**

Murtagh wearily clambered down from the driver’s seat and began to walk toward the gate. It didn’t take long for Jenny and Ian to greet us. Jenny, in fact, climbed into the wagon and fell on Jamie’s neck, sobbing.

“You’re alive. Oh god, I was so worrit. None o’ the others have come back.”

Jamie bolstered himself on his elbows. Are ye sayin’ as nay a one returned?”

“Nay a one, Jamie. I heard that Leoch isna more as weel. The redcoats have taken it, the bluidy bastards.”

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Weel, that’s enough o’ that, let’s get ye inside.” Jenny waved at Ian, “Can ye fetch a couple o’ the hires to bring Jamie into the house.

“Murtagh, help yerself to some food from the kitchen, then op to bed wi’ ye. I suppose ye’re knackered, and I ken why. And I thank ye for bringin’ my brother here.” She began to weep again, then hurried through the gate.

Ian stood, resting his weight on his good leg, He hesitated for a minute, a smile spreading across his lips. “Glad you’re home, Jamie …” And nodding at me … “Claire.”

**. . . . .**

Two of the more brawny hands came to help Jamie from the cart and shambled with him to the entrance of the manor. I grabbed my medical supplies and followed after them. Jenny directed the men to a room upstairs and pulled back the linens from the mattress.

“Careful now. Watch for his wound. We canna have it openin’ agin.”

Jamie let out a low moan when they laid him in the bed, and so I asked the inevitable, “Jenny, is it possible that you have any laudanum?”

“Nay, but there’s a plentiful supply o’ herbs and such in the solarium.”

The bandages were lightly spotted with bloody drainage, a good sign that there was no further danger of hemorrhage. I rushed down to retrieve some white willow bark. It wasn’t as strong an analgesic as Laudanum and had anticoagulation properties to boot, but it would have to suffice. I started a tea by adding the crushed powder into some boiling water, swirling the concoction in a suitably sized cup.

Jenny had an oil infusion of St. John’s Wort, which I added to a poultice of comfrey for Jamie’s injury. I carried it all into the upstairs bedroom … the medicinal herbs in a wicker basket set aside for that very purpose, and a mug of the tea dangling off my finger.

I found Jamie sitting up in the bed, chatting up Ian and Jenny. He looked at me suspiciously. “What have ye got there, Sassenach?”

Handing him the medicated fluid, I said, “Something for the pain.”

“Isna goin’ to put me to sleep, is it? I dinna wanta go to sleep just yet, ken.”

“No, it’s just a mild pain reliever. I have a fresh poultice here that may do a better job though. Ian, can you and Jenny help hold up his leg?”

With their help, I stripped and rewrapped the thigh.

Jamie looked astounded. “Och, Sassenach, I swear ye _are_ a witch. My leg feels verra much better. It’s like the throbbin’ isna there atall.”

Jenny brushed her hands together. “Good. Weel … I’ll go cobble op some breakfast for ye. The two o’ ye must be famished.

“Ian, ye can stay here and entertain my big brother. It’s no like you’re a bit o’ help in the kitchen anaways.”

“Do you need another hand?” I asked.

Her fist went to her hip, and her eyes rolled in their sockets. “Have yer culinary skills improved any since ye’ve visited France?”

I sheepishly responded, “I didn’t really have the opportunity to dabble in cuisine while we were there.”

“I didna think so. Ye’d best keep the lads company, aye?  I’ll manage the food by myself.”

**# # # # #**

I thought ’bout that insultin’ remark. Claire didna say anathin’ in rebuttal, but her cheeks were decidedly pink-tinged. I had the last laugh tho’, for Sassenach’s talents lay in other more enjoyable activities which I was loathe to trade for mere gustatory pleasures. I’d rather hire a cook.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. A fever in the Blood

  

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander             Banner by LOS

**. . . . .**

“Dinna pay any mind to Jenny. She’s just afluster at all the goin’s on in Scotland.”

“But she _is_ right … I can’t boil water.”

“Aye, but ye certainly can set my _blood_ to boilin’.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Touch me and see if it isna true.”

Sassenach took away my empty plate o’ food, puttin’ it on the floor, and then placed her hand opon my cheek. Her face lost its smile tho’, in fact, she appeared to be verra alarmed. She drew her hand back as if a snake was snappin’ its gapin’ mouth at her.

“I’m afraid you’ve got the beginnings of a fever. That’s not unusual after a serious injury, though.”

I kent her meanin’, but she looked a wee bit off-color. Why would she be so concerned? She e’en went so far as to place cool, wet cloths under my arms, and at my groin.

**# # # # #**

What I told him was only a half-truth. A slight rise in temperature frequently occurs postoperatively, but with the extensive wound in Jamie’s thigh, there was the distinct possibility of septic fever, and that worried me. Without antibiotics, it was like fighting a war with a peashooter. I tried not to _fash_ about it, but my gut response was one of dread. Losing him now would send me following him to the grave.

That night I lay beside him. I could feel the unnatural heat rising from his body even after another dose of willow bark tea. What I wouldn’t give for a modern thermometer. I had to do something more than applying cool water compresses, that much was certain.

After breakfast the next day, I asked Jenny if she had any henna in her stock, or if not, where I might procure some.

“Henna? I’ve ne’er had any use for it. I imagine Seamus MacLean might have some, or leastwise could direct ye to someone who does. At one time, in his younger years, he used to be an apothecary, ken. He lives ’bout a mile or so west of here. It’ll be the stone house wi’ the sheep pen near the bridge.

“Why d’ye need it, anaways?”

“It’s for your brother. I’m afraid he’s begun a fever, and henna’s a good antipyretic.”

“A what?”

“A substance that will bring down a high temperature.”

“Oh, aye, I expected as much, but wasna too sure.”

Jenny nodded at me. “Ye ken a good deal ’bout herbs and such. I suppose ye could learn to be just as proficient at fixing food as weel … if ye’ve a mind to.”

I ignored the dig. Perhaps someday, we might become friends, unfortunately, today was not that day.

**. . . . .**

Before leaving on my errand, I went back to the room to change Jamie’s dressing. The laceration displayed an angry red margin surrounding the sutures, and the left side of his scrotum was swollen and inflamed also. He flinched as I felt along his groin, pressing lightly at the engorged lymph nodes. Damn.

Sitting up, he shot me a mischievous look. “I hope ye’re no thinkin’ ’bout havin’ yer way wi’ me, as I’m no op to it as yet, aye?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it; you need some time to heal. I can wait. You rest now.”

“Sassenach,” he murmured, his face showing concern. “It’s no gonta burst, is it?”

“I don’t believe so, no. The swelling will go down in a few days.”

“Och, verra reassurin’.”

Typical male; more afraid of losing his manhood, than dying. I wondered though, if he’d live long enough to see it return to its normal state. I immediately shook my head, in the hopes of erasing the thought from my brain. I wouldn’t let a nasty infection take him away from me, not while there was breath in my body.

I kissed him goodbye and started toward the stable. One of the hands saddled up Tighearna, the only mule on the place.

**# # # # #**

The expression, _stubborn as a mule_ , didn’t quite fit this beast. She seemed to enjoy lugging me to the MacLean’s residence, and went about at a leisurely pace, seemingly content. We reached the bridge in short order, and the stone cottage, which stood farther back on a hill.

Thankfully the man had just what I needed, and then some …

I could not believe my great luck, as I spotted a small bottle, turned partly away from my eyes, the first two letters visible. “Is that laudanum on your shelf?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. Why do they all think I’m an opium addict? “Why d’ye ask?”

“I’m taking care of one of Jenny Murray’s relatives. He got injured a while back, and it still pains him.” I couldn’t very well tell him exactly what happened, especially since the bloody redcoats might be persistent enough to scour the highlands looking for any rebels. The less Mr. MacLean knew, the better for Jamie.

“What sort of injury?”

What a nosey little man. I kept to the truth as much as possible. “Oh, I believe he was struck in the leg with a sharp metal object.” _A bayonet, to be precise._ “Farm equipment can be quite dangerous if one isn’t vigilant, I dare say.”

He took the bottle down from the shelf and handed it to me, saying, “This thebaic tincture can be quite dangerous as weel, Lass. I’ll sell it to ye, wi’ a warnin’. If anathin’ goes amiss, I’ll take nay responsibility for it.”

I agreed, being very polite so as not to miss the chance of obtaining it. “I’ll be very cautious.”

“See that ye are.”

I paid the man and went out his front door, practically whistling. I untied the molly mule from the post where I tethered her and rode to Lallybroch, my treasures safely ensconced in my saddle bag.

**. . . . .**

Once at the manor, I speedily concocted a paste with the henna, oil, sugar, and vinegar in lieu of lemon juice. I picked up the bottle of laudanum, and the henna ointment and raced up the stairs with both in my hands.

When I arrived at Jamie’s bedside, I noted how flushed he appeared to be. He was warm to the touch, extremely so _. First things first_. Offering him the liquid in a teaspoon, I coaxed, “I need you to take some of this medicine, Jamie.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a painkiller.”

He held his nose as he downed the tincture. “It tastes like horse piss.”

“I’ve seen you guzzle rotgut that smelled—and tasted far worse.”

“Aye, but I was probably already drunk, ye ken. The taste improves substantially once ye’re sozzled, aye?”

“That is pure balderdash! Now let’s get your temperature down.”

I slathered him at his pulse points with the henna, hoping for a miracle. It did bring the fever down slightly, but was by no means miraculous.

I fretted all day about his condition, and paced up and down the halls when I wasn’t sitting on the edge of the bed talking to him. At one point, Murtagh stopped me. “Claire, ye’re gonta wear yerself out walkin’ to and fro. I’ll stay wi’ the lad while ye rest a bit. Ye can have the use o’ my bed in t’other room. Jamie wouldna want ye to collapse in a heap on his account. Now, off wi’ ye.”

**# # # # #**

Thin’s seemed to swirl ’round me, my head befuddled and filled wi’ sheep’s wool. I kent as Claire… leastwise I think it was Claire … sat beside me, talkin’, but it was verra hard to fathom what it was she was sayin’. I tried and tried to puzzle it out, but it wasna any use. Murtagh, Jenny, and Ian were there as weel, now and agin, like wraiths in the room. They were in a tunnel, movin’ farther and farther away from me. Sometimes I wondered if I was asleep or awake. So hard to tell.

My strength was gone. I felt like a wilted petal from a flower, and didna relish it atall. I always wanted to be strong for her; to protect her as I promised, and here she was caterin’ to me as if I was a bluidy invalid, which I expect I was.

Thoughts in my jumbled mind shifted. Was I dyin’ then? If it was so, I wasna afeared. I could fall asleep agin as easy as ye please and pass onta heaven, wi’out blinkin’an eye. My Sassenach would be verra displeased wi’ me, but it would be … so …easy.

**# # # # #**

Taking Murtagh’s suggestion, I slept soundly in his empty bed, realizing that yes indeed, I was exhausted, mentally and physically. After a two hour nap, I walked down the stairs and overheard a conversation between Murtagh and Ian.

“My sister lives in Dingwall, so I’ll be on my way in the morn to stay wi’ her and the family. Jamie hasna need o’ me, as he’s in good hands. God kens, Claire loves the lad with her whole heart. She proved herself on the day she refused to leave him as he asked.”

“Aye … that fact is irrefutable. She does love him verra much. They’re lucky to have each other. I only hope and pray he can survive this crisis.”

“Och … dinna let yer wife hear ye say that. Leastways, Jamie has a will o’ iron, and as for Claire … weel, she’s no gonta let him slip away either.”

I was leaning on the banister halfway down the staircase, still eavesdropping, when a crash sounded from Jamie’s room. I raced back up the steps, and there was my husband, swaying unsteadily on his feet. He smiled and waved as I came into view.

“Jesus, H. Roosevelt Christ! What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I was lookin’ for ye, Sassenach. Ye werena here.”

Walking slowly toward him, so as not to startle him, I asked, “Whatever for? You could certainly ascertain that I’d be somewhere on the promises. I’d not likely find myself lost. Now, get back into that bed this instant.”

Jamie took a wobbly step forward. “I want ye to come to bed wi’ me.”

“Jamie …”

He reached for me and fell to his knees with a loud thud. I tried to hoist him up off the floor. He was burning up in fever, but appeared to be oblivious to the fact.

I knelt beside him, panicked. “Oh god, those sutures are going to tear.”

“I care not.”

With a moronic grin on his lips, he pulled me onto him, laying us both flat. “Mo nighean donn, my own … my bonny lass, I want ye, badly.”

He began kissing me in earnest, his lips literally hot upon my own. I wriggled in his arms, while he eagerly changed course, and nuzzled my neck, trailing his nose along my jaw and behind my ear.

In an attempt to extricate myself, I pulled at his arms, only to have him clutch me more fiercely. “Please … will ye have me, Claire? Dinna make me beg.”

Finally able to remove myself from his embrace, I told him, “You’re delirious, Jamie. You’re ill … feverish, you need to get in bed.”

“Aye, that much is truly spoken. Will ye come wi’ me?”

Ian and Murtagh arrived at that moment. I implored Jamie’s cousin, “Can you help me raise him up?”

Ian interjected, “I expected as this had happened, so I sent Jenny to get the men in here. Jamie’s weak, and canna help atall. Ye havta admit, he’s no a light weight.”

**. . . . .**

Thank heavens the sutures remained intact with just a slight trickle of bloody discharge. As the day wore on, I checked the bandages and every hour or so, applied the henna, until the bowl of herbs was depleted. With no more to use, I reverted to the wet cloths again and offering him sips of water as frequently as possible. I sat up with him all night, and watched as he whimpered, his head rolling side to side, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. Feeling the futility of my ministrations, I crept downstairs and seated myself on the bottom step. I dropped my head into my hands and prayed to the good lord to spare my Jamie, and then the tears of helplessness overcame me.

 

  


 

 

 


	6. Healing and Hiding

  

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander            Banner by LOS

**. . . . .**

So lost was I, wallowing in my own miserable thoughts, that I failed to notice the footsteps of the person until she sat down on the stair beside me. It was Jenny, bare-footed, and in her shift, in similar dishabille as myself.

  
In a voice just above a whisper, she offered, “He isna any better then?”

I lifted my face to her, dropping my hands to my lap. “No …” My voice quavered tremulously as I spoke the word, revealing my emotional state. “And I don’t know what else to do.”

Jenny surprised me by clasping my hand in hers. “I ken ye did yer best. That’s all ye _can_ do. Ye’ve gotta leave the rest to the Lord now.”

Shaking my head, I obstinately replied, “I won’t do it; I don’t bloody well want to. I can’t lose him, Jenny.”

“Aye … he’s my brother, and I’ll miss him terrible as weel. But nay matter what we do, or wish … at times, it canna be helped.”

“Those are the _exact_ words Jamie used when I begged him not to fight at Culloden. Stubborn Scot!”

“That, he is.” Jenny chuckled softly. “I dinna mean to make light o’ the situation, but Jamie’s no left us yet. He’s strong, and stubborn as ye said. He’ll fight to stay wi’ ye. “

Her face suddenly took on a somber appearance, and she lowered her head. “Claire … I believe I need to make amends for the shoddy way I’ve treated ye thus far. It was unfair o’ me to judge ye so. Ye must ken tho’, as ye’re a Sassenach, and I dinna have much faith in that lot.

“I didna ken how deep yer feelin’s were for my brother. And, weel, Ian told me what Murtagh and he talked ’bout this morn. So, if Murtagh believes as ye love Jamie truly, then I canna distrust ye any longer, as I have.

With a raise of her head and pleading in her eyes, she said, “D’ye think ye can forgive me?”

I choked out, “Forgiven.”

She reached for me, and we held each other, hugging until I thought our bones would break. When we released our hold, I wiped the tears from my cheeks and smiled at her. “I better get back to my room and see what our stubborn Scotsman is up to.”

“Me as weel. He’s no the only stubborn Scot in the house. Ian is most probably lookin’ under the bed for me. G’night to ye, Claire.”

“Good night, Jenny.”

**. . . . .**

Saying a silent prayer on my way up the staircase—despite the previous declaration of _my_ will be done—I took a deep breath and entered the room. As I approached the bed, Jamie’s hand shot out from under the blankets, searching for me. Was it my imagination or did it seem less heated? He pulled me to him, and I kissed his brow, then climbed in next to my sweet Scotsman, feeling a bit less troubled. Whether it was the talk with Jenny, my heartfelt prayer, or the touch of his hand, I’d never know, only that I slept soundly for the rest of the night.

When I awoke the following dawn, I was certain that his temperature had come down substantially. Jamie wasn’t out of woods yet, by any means, but he appeared to be slowly improving.

**# # # # #**

How many days had passed? I lost count; it was nothin’ but a blur. I remembered Randall stickin’ me wi’ the bluidy bayonet, and Murtagh drivin’ me in the cart to a cabin, and my bonny lass cradlin’ my head in her lap. The pain remained all too clear in my memory, the gash in my thigh still throbbin’ somethin’ fierce. I was in a bed, and glanced around. The room was verra familiar. Stars and stones, was I at Lallybroch then? Turnin’ my head, I spied my Sassenach wi’ her eyes wide open, gazin’ back at me. I touched her cheek to assure myself that I wasna dreamin’ … or dead. She held my hand to her face, then kissed my palm.

My eyes lit up at the sight o’ her. “I expect I must be still alive, aye?”

“Yes, I expect you are. But you scared the living daylights out of me, so you better heal up promptly if you wish my heart to stop its hammering.”

“Dinna fash, Claire. I ken as I’m on the mend.

“And in that case, d’ye suppose ye can give me a g’morning kiss?”

“I think that can be arranged.”

Claire swept the curls away from my forehead and held my face in her hands. She brushed her lips lightly agin’ mine. It was verra unsatisfyin’, so to remedy the situation, I turned to her, attemptin’ to intensify the amorous activity. In so doin’, my blasted leg was givin’ me what for, and I winced out loud.

My wife jerked away from me. “You’re in pain. I’ll get you some laudanum, shall I?”

“Aye, I dinna wanta take the damn stuff, but my thigh says different.”

**. . . . .**

After takin’ a spoonful o’ the nasty swill, Claire waited a short while, then checked my bandage. I had to ken somethin’ important, and so my fingers gripped her arm. “I canna sit op to see what ye’re doin’. I’m anxious to ken whether or no my ballocks are to normal yet.”

With a toss o’ her head, she snorted, “Oh, Jamie, how perfectly typical. Yes, I assure you. They’re a bit bruised, but back to normal in size and busily manufacturing more seed.”

“Good. I wouldna wish to neglect my husbandly duties.”

When she looked op at me, her eyes rollin’ like dice, I told her, “I ken how ye are Sassenach. It wouldna do for ye to abstain for any length o’ time. Why ye’d be climbin’ the walls with want.”

“Well, I dare say, we’d better abstain for a bit longer until these sutures come out. I don’t relish having to stitch you up again.”

That news didna sit weel wi’ me. Even the fact as I was alive and cheated the reaper couldna put me in a better mood. I made a disgruntled noise in my throat. Claire called it, the Scottish noise of disgust.

**# # # # #**

I was decidedly calmer after I scanned the injury in Jamie’s thigh. The sutures were intact, and the redness and edema had abated somewhat, leaving me breathing a sigh of relief. All my Scotsman seemed concerned about though, was the condition of his swollen testicle. I do believe he’d rather lose his leg than the function of that—at least in his estimation—precious organ. He probably would have leapt off the bed in horror if I hadn’t given him a glowing report of its current status.

I reapplied poultices to the leg, wrapping it snugly. I called down the stairs to Jenny when I finished my ministrations, “Come and see your brother, Jenny. He’s ready for visitors.”

**. . . . .**

By the time Jenny and Ian arrived, I had him bolstered with two pillows prepared for their visit. Jenny’s fingers flew to her mouth, so overwhelmed at the sight of him, she couldn’t utter a word. Ian, on the other hand, patted Jamie’s arm. “Dinna be doin’ like that to us anamore, aye? I’ve had my fill o’ the weepin’ and wallowin’ wi’ the lassies these days past. I’d liketa rust wi’ all the water as was spilled.”

Jamie grinned, then spoke. Ye’ll be hearin’ more weepin’ if I dinna fill my belly soon. I’m still alive but I expect I’ll be dyin’ o’ starvation in a bit. What does a man havta do to get some food?”

I nodded to Jenny. “You two stay here; I’ll bring up a tray.”

**. . . . .**

His appetite wasn’t as voracious as usual, but he did a decent job of eating what I’d brought him. I made sure that he drank plenty of water, and as he was still slightly flushed with a low-grade fever, offered him more willow bark tea.

Ian and Jenny left his bedside to continue with the never-ending chores of the farm, leaving us alone together.

Jamie’s lake-blue eyes penetrated me clear to my soul, as he said. “I’m verra glad to be back amongst the livin’, Claire, and I have ye to thank for it.”

“I couldn’t very well let you die. I’m too used to sharing your bed, and listening to your bloody stories.”

I breathed out, trying to organize my thoughts. “Jamie, I wouldn’t be able to go on without you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Aye. Ye came back, Sassenach. And if ye hadna returned, I’d be under a headstone, in the graveyard behind the house, beside my ancestors, long gone. I thank ye for that. And if ye hadna come back to me, I’d soon as be dead anaways, as to live wi’out ye.”

He stared at me for a moment, then continued. “Come here.”

I got up from the chair I’d been seated in, and approached the head of the bed. He pulled me down to sit on the edge of the mattress. “It was a verra lucky day when ye came into my life. I’ll ne’er regret as I marrit ye. Ye’ve given me the gift o’ yer love, and neither gold, nor silver can compare wi’ it. None can take it away from me either.”

He reached out and tenderly touched my pregnant abdomen. “I should ne’er see my own bairn if ye’d left, and that would be a hard thin’ to bear.”

The baby kicked in the spot where Jamie placed his hand.

I smiled, covering his hand with mine. “I think he knows your voice.”

“I’m sure he does.” Jamie spoke to the child within me. “I’m yer da, wee one. And I’ll no be separated from ye agin.”

**. . . . .**

Jamie continued to get stronger in the next three days, but circumstances arose which precluded a total recuperation. One of the hands came storming into the house. “It’s _The Watch_ , Mistress Murray. I saw ’em wi’ my own eyes. They’re just o’er the ridge and headin’ this way.”

“Thank ye, Aaron. Can ye let Ian ken as they’re comin’? I expect he’s in the barn.”

The man exited the kitchen, and Jenny exclaimed, “Claire, help me move the table and these boxes, then bring my brother down here quickly afore they get to the house.”

We made short shrift of the work, and I hurried up the stairs to fetch Jamie.

His brow furrowed. “What’s amiss, Sassenach? Ye look scairt to pieces.”

“I am. We must go downstairs so Jenny can hide you from _The Watch.”_

With his head lolling back and forth, he complained, “Och … will there ne’er be a bit o’ rest for us?”

“It doesn’t appear so.”

I handed him his kilt and he donned it speedily. “Come then, let’s get you to the kitchen.”

This would be his maiden voyage in treading on the staircase since his injury, and I crossed my fingers that no untoward disaster would befall us on the way down.

**. . . . .**

I watched as Jenny lifted a grate from the floor, exposing a priest hole. Aiding my still weakened husband, I climbed down the iron ladder with him until we reached the bottom. Jamie sat on the floor, and I shrieked, “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! If that wound reopens, I swear I shall hunt down every bloody member of that pack of brigands, and put a bullet in each of their heads.”

Jenny poked her head into the opening, and hissed, “Claire, ye need to hurry. Now, leave him, and get yer arse up here.”

We no sooner moved the various objects into place over the hidey-hole, when we heard the horses’ hooves in the courtyard, followed by loud laughter. We rushed into the front room and took several deep breaths to quiet our nerves.

Ian was outside, greeting the unwelcome newcomers. Four filthy rogues entered the house, led by a cheerful looking Ian. Apparently, he had some excellent training at a school for aspiring actors.

The men peered at their surroundings, with the appearance of imminent expectations. Their leader, a brute named, MacGuire, spoke with Ian in a familiar fashion. It didn’t take me long to surmise that these visitors had frequented Lallybroch, as he demanded, “Sorry to barge in here like this, Murray, but the horses need grain and water, and the lads, weel, they’re famished, ye ken? They’ll be in need o’ a bite and a tot o’ whiskey.”

Ian gestured to Jenny. “The men are hungry, Jenny. Can ye fix op somethin’ for them?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she responded, and grabbing my arm, bustled us off back to the kitchen. With a finger to her lips, Jenny waved me over to the table. Then, bending to my ear, whispered, “Your husband, Jamie, died at Culloden, ken? Ye’re seekin’ shelter here ’til the bairn comes. Dinna worry ’bout Ian, he’ll go along wi’ the story. These men dinna ken as we have a priest hole, so Jamie will be safely hidden.”

I hoped she was right.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. "Watch" Out

  

Disclaimer: D. Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander           Banner by LOS

**. . . . .**

My kitchen skills being less than exemplary, I helped out as best I could. Jenny called to Ian in the other room when we finished, if nothing else than to apprise him of our subterfuge. “Ian, can ye help carry this tray?”

I heard him mutter to the filthy blokes, “I’ll be just a moment, gentlemen.”

Phft—gentlemen, indeed.

Ian appeared, and Jenny crooked a finger at him. On tiptoe, she rehearsed the story she had fabricated at his cocked ear. He nodded in comprehension and carted the food to the waiting rogues.

Jenny and I followed him into the dining room. The men sat there, smug, as if it was our bloody duty to cater to their every whim. They pounced on the food like a plague of locust. Their total lack of etiquette so atrocious as to be vomit inducing! Thank heaven, I was not obliged to sit with them. I found my way back to the scullery and hid out with Jenny while they slavered over the meal, in a grotesque display of appreciation.

The fare was disposed of rather quickly, and MacGuire rudely insinuated himself into our company, as if he had carte blanche to roam about the house. “Our glasses are a wee bit in need o’ more whiskey. Perchance, can ye bring us each a tankard?”

I sensed Jenny bristle at his insolent manner. There’s a cask in the storeroom, but we canna carry it ourselves. As ye can see, my sister-in-law is wi’ child.”

MacGuire picked at his teeth with a fingernail, sucking loose a particle and swallowing. Looking me up and down, he agreed, “Aye, I can see that for myself.” He narrowed his eyes zeroing in on my face. “Ye ken, I dinna believe as we’ve been properly introduced. Murray tells me ye’re his sister-in-law. How is it then, as yer husband doesna seem to be in attendance here?”

“My husband is dead.”

“Is he now, Mrs …?”

“Mrs. James Fraser.”

“I’m that sorry for yer loss.”

_Are you? If he was here, you’d be hauling him off to the British, and parceling out the thirty pieces of silver to your cronies._

“And how did it happen, if I might ask?”

The cheek of this man. It was none of his affair, and yet, I had to continue the charade in hopes that he’d take his men and vamoose.

Not very adept at outright lying, I bowed my head in mock despondency. “He fell at Culloden.”

“It was a bloody business for certain, but e’en so, I look at ye and see as ye’re still a bonny lass. Ye should have nay trouble atall to snag yerself another husband.” He scrutinized me from head to foot once more with a leering glint in his eye. “If I wasna marrit already, I’d have a mind to wed ye myself. E’en full-bellied as ye are, I can appreciate yer beauty. I wouldna mind swivin’ ye of a night, belly or no.

“Weel …if ye’ll excuse me, I’ll take the boys ’round back to fetch the cask.”

So much for his concern of a poor helpless widow ... I hoped the blackhearts dropped the vat of whiskey on his foot.

We waited until we heard all the boots thumping across the room and out the door. I raced up the stairs and grabbed several blankets and a pillow while Jenny cleared off, and pulled up the grate. I practically fell down the ladder in my haste, and tucked the blankets around Jamie. His sister handed me a canteen of water and some food for him. No telling how long those ner-do-wells would stick around.

I kissed him and whispered. We’ll try to get the bloody Watch off the premises as soon as we’re able.”

“Dinna fash, Sassenach. I’ll be fine, so long as I dinna feel a sneeze comin’ on.”

“Oh, god. Don’t you dare.”

“Claire,” Jenny urged. “Be quick ’bout it. I hear them returnin’.”

**. . . . .**

I attempted to wear a mask of a grief-stricken woman whenever in close proximity of the men. Heaven knows if I succeeded. At any rate, Jenny filled two leather flasks with liquor, and Aaron handed one of the thugs a sack of oats for the animals once they were in the courtyard.

MacGuire thumped Ian on the shoulder, nearly pushing him off balance, and non-apologetic about it. “We’ll be back this way in three days or so, Murray. Have the whiskey ready for us, aye?”

Ian managed a weak smile. “Anathin' ye say, MacGuire.”

Jenny and I followed the thieving hooligans outside and watched to be assured of their departure.

The leader mounted his horse and gestured to the remaining party to do the same. They were off in a cloud of dirt and dried grass.

“Good riddance to that lot,” Jenny muttered at the retreating figures.

Stiff as a poker, she bustled toward the front entrance. I quickened my pace to catch her up. “Is this a regular occurrence—these ruffians popping in like that?” I asked, astounded.

“Aye, the bluidy Watch comes ’round twice a month at least, sometimes more. They’re nay better than common thieves. But ne’er mind that now. Jamie needs our help to hoik him up from the priest hole.”

Fergus and young Ian arrived as the Watch rode out of sight, a vanishing blot on the horizon. They’d been on a hunting expedition, or so Jenny told me. They had just returned, and not a minute too soon. Their bounty of two wild turkeys and several squirrels would have stocked the brigands’ saddlebags in that event, and not due to the hunters’ beneficence.

Their eyes got big as they spotted me.

“Auntie Claire,” Ian exclaimed, running at me with arms outstretched. “How is it?”

“Fine, now that we’ve seen the backsides of those scoundrels.”

“We saw them,” Fergus said. “So we waited until they’d gone.”

Ian smiled, one eye cocked in amusement. “Aye, we didna want the buggers stuffin’ their gizzards wi’ our game.”

“Well, now that you’ve come, I need your help.”

“ _Mon dieu_ , but it’s good to see you, mam. But how can we help?”

“Jamie’s down in the priest hole. He’s injured and can’t climb out by himself.”

“He’s alive then?” Ian cried.

Fergus crossed himself. “Thank the Lord.”

_And damn The Watch._

**. . . . .**

I stood by the open grate as Aaron and Fergus slowly guided Jamie up the ladder.

# # # # #

Stars and stones, it was like bein’ at Wentworth, but wi’ a wee better bill o’ fare, mind. Damn Watch … the bunch o’ mangy turncoats! Why didna they scud off to Ireland, and leave us, defeated Jacobites alone?  Wasna the shame o’ losin’ the war punishment enough?

I sat there, my ears clampin’ onto ever’ word o’ the chatter above. Wi’ a cask o’ whiskey at their disposal, they could be workin’ on it all the day, and the night long as weel. Leastways, I had a comfortable pillow, blankets to keep me from freezin’ my ballocks off, and food enough to keep the growlin’ from my belly. I counted my blessin’s.

I heard Ian say, “Aaron’s doon wi’ feedin and waterin’ yer animals. I can have him pack ye some oats for later.”

“Ay, it’s a grand gesture, and we’re truly grateful for yer hospitality. We’d be a might more grateful if ye see fit to send us off wi’ a couple skins o’ whiskey as weel.”

I couldna see my sister’s face, but it didna matter. I heard her mutterin’s and cupboards bangin’ in gettin’ down the leather flasks. She must’ve gotten them filled, as the noise o’ horses gallopin’ off met my ears. When the sounds faded, the grate opened, and Ian’s hired man, Aaron, along wi’ Fergus, descended into the hole.

I was as surprised at seein’ my adopted son as he was to set eyes on me. “Fergus, where ye been, Lad?”

“I’ve been traipsin’ about the countryside with _jeune_ Ian, in search of meat to put on the table. And now I see I should have been more persistent in my efforts, since you and mam have arrived, _j’en suis désolé_. Nonetheless, I’m very glad to see you’re not dead, mon père.”

They aided me in the ascent op the ladder and returned me to the blasted bed.

**# # # # #**

When I gazed upon that beloved face as he reached the opening, such tenderness welled up inside of me, that I nearly wept for joy.

The grin on his lips widened as he emerged from his temporary catacomb. “Are ye all right, Sassenach?”

“Am I all right? I was never in any danger. My worry was for you. Those bloody heathens would have dragged you to the British Headquarters where you’d be executed or at the very least, imprisoned for treason.”

“Aye, I expect that’s true, but it didna happen, did it?”

“No, we were lucky … this time.” Flicking my head at my two willing assistants, I said, “Thank you, Aaron … Fergus. Can you escort Jamie to bed now?”

Waving them away, Jamie groused, “I dinna ken as it’s entirely necessary.”

Jenny, standing nearby, arms akimbo, supplied, “Aye—it is. Now, off wi’ ye, and I dinna wanta hear any o’ yer damned excuses.”

Ian winked at me, then turned to Jamie. “Ye heard my mam. Let’s be off then, Uncle.”

Jamie made one of those irritating Scottish noises again, but let the men lead him upstairs to our room.

**# # # # #**

Back to the bluidy bed. I was tired o’ bein’ treated as a cripple. It wouldna be so bad if my Sassenach would take op the other side o’ the mattress, cuddlin’ next to me, but nay, she just puttered ’bout takin’ care o’my leg. What o’ the rest o’ me? I was starved for affection, and her touches in the places as were more enjoyable. It’d been awhile, and I lost track o’ the days, but my body was wantin’ more than nursin’ ministrations. My manhood was makin’ it known as that part o’ me was most grievously bein’ neglected. I determined to change it.

That night, after ascertainin’ that there were … “miraculously”, she said … no broken sutures, or dehiscence, Claire told me, “The wound looks good. I’ll probably take those stitches out in another couple of days. Are they starting to itch?”

“Aye, a bit. Leastways, it doesna hurt like the devil anamore. So, I was thinkin’ …”

I pulled her toward me, shovin’ aside some of the sheets, makin’ my intentions clear to my wife.

“Jamie …” she cautioned.

“Nay, I dinna itch, nor hurt god-awful, but I swear I’m gonta die o’ want. And will ye let me suffer so when ye ken full weel as ye can give me relief? I’m burnin’ op, Lass, and willow bark tea canna contain it.”

“Are you sure about this?”

I sighed verra frustrated. “Ye said yerself, my ballocks are back to normal, and as such, they naturally have need o’ release.”

“But what about …”

“Sassenach, I love ye, and I want ye so. Ye want me as weel, else why would ye return to me and sew me back t’gether?

“Now come here, and let me love ye proper, mo nighean, afore the flames lick away at me and leave nothin’ but a burned-out cinder.”

She melted into my arms. “Yes, master.”

**# # # # #**

After our little love tryst, the thought of those heinous brutes flooded my mind. Jamie was recuperating nicely, but could he remain that way with _The Watch_ chasing after him? My sleep was fitful. I tossed all night long, and no wonder. I woke before dawn, with a dread of the coming events.

Instinctively I reached out, my fingertips touching Jamie’s forehead. No fever. He stirred, sitting up part way. “It’s early, Sassenach. Is there somethin’ amiss?”

“Yes … there is. We have to leave here. They’re going to come back and soon.”

“ _The Watch_ , ye mean.”

“That’s precisely who I mean. Your sister says they’re here with regularity, and I can’t let them find you. It wouldn’t go well with Jenny and Ian either—harboring a fugitive. Who knows what would be done to them. Don’t you see, we have to seek shelter elsewhere?”

“I ken as ye’re right, and I do ken where I might find refuge, but I’ll no have ye share it wi’ me. It’s nay place for a woman bearin’ a child. Where’s Murtagh? I’ll have him bring ye to me when he feels it’s safe, and we can find a place t’gether.”

“Murtagh left days ago, to stay with his sister. Didn’t you wonder why he wasn’t about?”

 “Nay, I just thought … Ne’er mind what I thought. Christ, why didna anyone tell me?”

“I suppose Jenny didn’t want to upset you. Anyway, that’s beside the point. You’re not leaving me here. I’m going with you.”

“Och, Sassenach. I expected as much.”

 

 

 

 


	8. A Refuge of Sorts

    

 

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* * *

 

 

“There—all done.” I held up the last suture in my forceps, to show Jamie, then dropped it in an earthen bowl with the rest of the silken threads. Wiping the suture line with a swab soaked in alcohol, I re-wrapped his leg, winding the bandage so that it covered the whole of the appendage.

Jamie’s brows knit together. “Ye told me it was healed, Sassenach. Why do I havta stomp ’bout with my leg trussed op like a mummy?”

“I am not taking any chances of that wound opening, so you’ll just have to bear with it.”  

He made one of those rude Scottish noises and rolled those beautiful lake-blue eyes.

Jenny entered the room, carrying a tray of breakfast. “It’d be wise o’ ye to listen to yer wife. I dinna think she’d steer ye wrong.”

“I am listenin’, that’s no to say as I like what I’m hearin’, mind.”

“Weel, ye’d best eat op. Young Ian and Fergus have gone to fetch Murtagh, so we can decide what’s to be done with the lot o’ ye.”

“Good. Murtagh will have some grand ideas.”

It was my turn to give him an eye roll. “Perish the thought.”

**# # # # #**

“Are ye daft, lad? Ye canna bring a pregnant woman to live wi’ ye in a dark, and might I add, cold cave.”

“Tell that to my wife. It wasna my idea.”

Murtagh, scratched at his beard. “Ne’er be it said as yer wife were a shrinkin’ violet.”

“Nay. So what say ye? Will ye help us?”

My godfather jumped op from the settle, clearly insulted. “What? Ye’re an affront to my honor. D’ye suppose ye havta ask for my help? Ye ken as I’d lay down my life for ye, Jamie.”

“I’m sorry to have offended yer sensibilities.”

“Weel, be that as it may, I ken as _The Watch_ might weel be suspicious, so it’s best as ye’d be gone from this place. We’ll need a story to explain why Claire here, is nay longer lodgin’ here tho’.”

“ _The Watch_ doesn’t know much about me, so I imagine it could be said that some relatives in Edinburgh came and whisked me away.”

Ian chimed, “That sounds reasonable enough. It would seem as she’d be more comfortable amongst her own kin.”

Murtagh rubbed his brow wi’ two fingers. “So, if that’s settled, I’ll see ’bout hirin’ a boat to take ye to the Isle o’ Skye. I doubt as the Sassenachs—beggin’ yer pardon, Claire—or _The Watch_ will follow ye there. It’d be too much o’ a nuisance to be toolin’ ’bout searchin’ out one man, I expect.”

“Should we leave t’day, d’ye think?” I asked.

“Aye. Nay tellin’ when those filthy ruffians will show their ugly mugs agin.”

Ian leaned forward in his chair, interjectin’, “We can see as ye have blankets and such, sufficient for yer stay. It wouldna do to have ye found half-frozen on the hill.”

My sister added, “Or starved … I’ll pack op enough victuals to last two days or so. Will that be enough to tide them o’er ’til ye can return wi’ good news?”

With a shrug, Murtagh answered, “I canna say for sure. I’ll do my best.” 

Fergus, not to be discounted, supplied, “Young Ian and I can bring you more if need be, père.”

Clappin’ my hands, I declared, “All right then.” I picked op Ian’s crutches, ready to begin the packin’ when Claire scolded, “And where, pray tell, do you think you’re going?”

“There’s work to be doon, Sassenach.”

Ian hobbled to where I was seated and snatched the crutches away from me. “I’ll thank ye to return the use o’ my crutches. I may no have a wound to vex me, but as ye weel ken, I’ve only one and a half legs to stand on. Now, set yer arse down.”

 

**# # # # #**

Jenny, with Fergus’ help, came outside carrying the supply of food. I felt bad that she and Ian had to share their stores with us, considering how their children depended on it, and said as much.

Handing me two large baskets, to set in the wagon with the rest of the provisions, she said, “Would ye have me send my own brother and his dear wife to fend for themselves when I have the means to succor them? Nay, I canna do it. My parents would rise op from their graves and chastise me for such neglect. Now, ye’ll take this wi’ ye, and be thankful for it.”

“Bless you, Jenny.”

She turned to go back inside the house, saying, “Someday ye may havta return the favor.”

“I’m counting on it.”

**. . . . .**

Tears fell as goodbyes were spoken, and hugs exchanged, but Jamie assured both his sister and brother-in-law, Fergus, too, that this was not a final separation. We would see them again in due time.

Jamie was carefully aided into the back of the wagon by Murtagh and Fergus, and I, myself as well. The dray began to move, and we waved one last time to our family and Lallybroch.

On the way to wherever the hell we were headed, Jamie began to sing in Gaelic, and Murtagh joined in. Their voices were bloody awful, and yet it cheered me. For all I knew we might be spending the next few days lying in a swamp, but the thought didn’t dampen my spirits. At any rate, our final destination was reached a little more than half a mile away. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Our refuge was a hole in a rock face. I heard the word cave, but this was more like a burrow.

My cheerful attitude changed dramatically while staring at the tiny opening. _Lovely …_ I couldn’t very well voice my concerns, especially since Jamie had warned me about his choice of a hidey hole. My pride wouldn’t let me ask Murtagh to drive me back to the Murray’s either, so I’d have to make do.

Murtagh descended from the driver’s seat and drew his sword.

“Whatever are you doing, Murtagh?”

“I’m checkin’ for certain as the place is unoccupied. Ye dinna wanta share yer lodge wi’ any wild animals, d’ye?”

“Um, no. I suppose not.”

What kind of animals? Raccoons, cougars, boars? I shuddered to think about it.

The brave little man ducked his head to enter and made a clean sweep of the space. His head popped out of the opening, and he motioned to me. “Ye can start unloadin’ the wagon. I didna find any signs o’ wee beasties livin’ here ’bouts.”

“Are you positive that all of this is going to fit inside?”

Jamie tried to assure me. “The size o’ this cave is deceptive, Sassenach, only the mouth o’ it appears verra small. My da used to store his whiskey here, ’til it got so it became a bit risky wi’ _The Watch_ and all. I’m no sayin’ as I’d wanta live here permanent, mind. Anaways, it’ll do right fine for a couple o’ days, I expect.”

I swallowed my fears and began removing food and bedding from the cart.

Just as Jamie said, the depth and width inside were much greater, although the height wasn’t to my liking at all. At least it could easily accommodate our provisions. Murtagh and I arranged everything at the far end of the cavern. I made Jamie stay in the bed of the wagon until we’d finished.

He gingerly walked with our help to the cavern and slipped inside. Murtagh jerked his head back toward the entrance. “I’m in need of yer wife’s assistance to gather wood for a fire, lest ye freeze yer ballocks off.”

Jamie carefully lowered himself onto a crate that held the bedding.  “Take her, but I’ll be wroth wi’ ye if ye dinna return her, mind.”

“I’m no in the habit o’ runnin’ away wi’ another man’s wife; leastwise no a feisty one such as this one. Come along, Sassenach, we’ve firewood to bring in.”

I saluted him, in a mocking manner. “Yessir, no sir, three bags full sir.”

Jamie smiled and lifted one shoulder. Murtagh shook his head. “Women,” he huffed. “I dinna ken them atall.”

I followed Murtagh outside, and we trailed a sheep path to a copse of trees. I collected branches that Murtagh had lopped off with an axe, and fallen trunks he hacked into manageable size. We loaded them all when he thought we’d amassed enough, and headed back to that miserable little hole in the wall.

Dragging the wood into the cave, I felt that dread again of being confined in this shallow dugout with not nearly enough air to breathe. There was enough fuel for our fire, and so Murtagh and I left the rest nearby with a canvas tarp covering it to keep out the rain, and bits of brush and detritus over that to camouflage it from the eyes of anyone who was searching for us. I brought the axe in with me and laid it down by the rock wall. I hoped we wouldn’t need to implement it for cutting wood or, god forbid, defending ourselves from unscrupulous renegades.

Murtagh brushed his hands together signifying a job well done. He then bid us farewell, and told us, “I’ll return the cart and horses to Ian, then take my own animal to make the arrangements for yer transport. I’ll be back in a couple o’ days or so. Ye’ll be safe here, ken?”

“Aye, thank, ye, Murtagh, truly.”

“There’s nothin’ I wouldna do for ye, Jamie …” He scratched his chin. “… except maybe for gettin’ marrit, seein’ as there’s only one woman worth havin’, and she’s taken.”

He waved his tam o’shanter. “I’ll be off then. Good luck to ye both.”

**. . . . .**

Jamie seemed pensive while he sat by the roaring flames, stoking the fire with a long stick.

I pushed him over slightly to make room for myself. “Out with it, Jamie.”

“I’m sorry ye havta stay in this foxhole wi’ me. I’m thinkin’ as maybe ye shouldha left me to die on that field, then ye wouldna havta suffer like this. Murtagh was right. This isna place for a woman in yer condition. Ye’d be better off if ye’d ne’er marrit the likes o’ me. I’ve only brought ye hard work and misery.”

“Stop that right now. I won’t hear that kind of talk from your lips. I love you Jamie, and nothing can change that. I’d be lost without you. This is but a tiny scrap of time, and it will pass as these trials always do. It most likely will make us stronger, and able to face any other adversities put in in our path. And by the way, I distinctly remember refusing to heed your words, and it was my own doing to follow you on this adventure.

“Are you hungry? I can fix us something to eat. So see, we’ve been in worse predicaments. At least this time we won’t starve.”

“Ye are a most optimistic person, Claire. Glad I am to have ye.”

**. . . . .**

Remaining calm was more difficult than I imagined when it came time to bed down. I never told Jamie about my phobias, claustrophobia being the star of the hour.

“Are ye no gonta lie down t’night, Claire?”

“I can’t. I … I need to move the blankets to the mouth of this cave.”

I could make out a frown on his face in the dim light from one of Jenny’s oil lamps. “Sassenach … it’s cold enough to freeze yer nose off outside. I dinna ken why ye’d wanta do that.”

Grimacing, I announced, “You may as well know; I suffer from claustrophobia.”

“Eh? I canna take yer meanin’.”

The words spewed out of me like shells fired from a machine gun. “I get bloody anxious in closed spaces, and I won’t be able to breathe if I lie flat.” Patting my rounded abdomen, I continued, “And now, being in my present state, well … you can see my dilemma.”

Jamie burst out laughing, the noise echoing in the chamber. “Ye mean to tell me, after all this time as I ne’er kent that fact?”

“Obviously not.”

“Ye amaze me, mo nighean, and I love ye for it. Let’s move the blankets, aye?”

**# # # # #**

We slept wi’ our heads outside the cave, so Claire could breathe. It was a bluidy wonder as icicles hadna formed in our hair. For two nights tho’, I expected as we could endure the bother o’ it all. Leastwise, I was happy as she was still sharing my bed. If I had to die o’ the cold, I’d rather freeze wi’ my Sassenach in my arms than wi’out her. I smiled at the thought of us frozen t’gether, limbs curled ’bout each other, in a frost-covered embrace.

The light was streamin’ o’er the hillside, and Claire woke wi’ a start. “Ah, so we’re still alive, I see.”

“Aye, just barely. Can we warm our parts by the fire now?”

“Yes, that would be lovely. What I wouldn’t give for a nice hot cup of tea as well.”    

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Diverted

  

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* * *

 

The weather hadna changed o’er much, leastwise we had enough firewood for another day, and we didna suffer from the cold what wi’ all the blankets and such as Jenny had sent wi’ us. The food howe’er was down to crumbs no fit for a mouse. Murtagh told us he’d be back in two days, it was gone past three already, and whilst I could stand to do wi’out, Sassenach was wi’ child, and I didna want this bairn to make his way back to heaven like his sister, Faith.

  
My wife was adamant as I wouldna be seen in the open. And as such, volunteered to gad ’bout in search of nuts and berries. She explained, “If _The Watch_ should happen by, I can always say I was searching for herbs. This place isn’t that far from Lallybroch, so I imagine it would be a plausible reason for me to be scouring the countryside alone.”

Where was Murtagh? And where was Fergus? He’d promised to keep us furnished with food enough ’til my godfather should return. Somethin’ was amiss.

“Be that as it may, I’m worrit as those scoundrels would do ye harm if they came across ye wi’out means to protect yerself.”

I gave her what she called my Scottish scowl, and said, “Seein’ as ye’ll do what ye set yer mind to, I suppose I havna choice but to let ye be on yer way. I’d feel a might better if ye’d bring my pistol wi’ ye, tho’.”

“Bloody hell. Hand it to me then.” She turned to be ’bout the business, when I called to her. “Wait. Are ye leavin’ me wi’out a kiss?”

“Whatever are you going on about? I kissed you this morning when we first got out of bed.”

“Aye, and now, I’m in need o’ a goodbye kiss.”

“Oh for pity’s sake …”

She bent down lower to where I was sittin’, a frown opon her face.

“Mo nighean, it could be as we might ne’er see t’other agin. Would ye no wish to remember this as our last meetin’?”

“James Fraser. Don’t you dare even think of such a thing. I’ll be back; Murtagh will come, and we’ll live out the rest of lives in peace.”

“Ye’re no gonta kiss me, then?”

“Where did you get that idea?”

Wi’ her head level to me, she did press her lips once more to mine. “Ye can go now. But see as ye return to me, ken.”

I couldna shake the feelin’ o’ uneasiness as befell me when Claire scuttled out the mouth o’ the cave. No shots were fired in the interminin’ hours, so I supposed she hadna been sighted, nor assaulted. She returned after a while, a sack filled wi’ wild grapes, elderberries, and chestnuts, which she roasted o’er the fire.  

**. . . . .**

That verra night, I was awakened by the snap o’ twigs outside the cave. “Mon pere,” Fergus’ voice whispered. “Are you in there?”

“Aye. Come.”

Fergus entered with a satchel stuffed wi’ food.

“How is it?”

“It’s not good. _The Watch_ came back straight away after you and maman left. There’s been redcoats patrolling the highways. Mon Dieu, we haven’t seen Murtagh at all. I only snuck outside tonight when darkness fell and the men were asleep. They’re in the house as we sit here and speak. I must get back before they realize I am gone. I only hope none of them have followed me here.”

Claire sat op beside me, rubbin’ her eyes. “Fergus, is that you?”

“Oui, maman. I’ve come to bring you more food, but I must go now. Bon appetit.”

“Merci, Fergus. There’s a good lad. And be careful.”

Fergus bowed, heading toward the opening. “I’ll come again tomorrow night if Murtagh is delayed another day.”

He left, and Sassenach nestled her body close to mine. I brushed my lips agin’ her brow and settled in to sleep. We were safe for a few more hours.

**# # # # #**

Night had closed in, and we heard a whistle outside, along with the sound of horses. It was Murtagh, thank heaven. He ducked his head inside. “Get yer belongin’s t’gether, there’s a mob o’ Brits trailin’ after me. Druit—we havta go now!”

We gathered up what few things we’d brought along, and crawled out. I was surprised to see young Ian with Murtagh. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Why are _you_ here? Jenny will skin you alive.”

Murtagh interrupted. “Nay, we’re in need o’ him. When I get ye on the boat, Ian here will take the horses. If he meets op wi’the bluidy redcoats he’ll tell them as someone let the animals out, and he had to bring them all home. Who would suspect a wean to be aidin’ us criminals, aye?”

**. . . . .**

I was worried sick that Jamie was not sufficiently recuperated to be mounting a horse, let alone galloping about the countryside like one of those frightful buzz bombs. I startled every time his horse reared back or scaled an obstacle in the path. He was an experienced horseman, but I was an _experienced_ nurse, and it was with trepidation that I watched him astride his animal. It wouldn’t take more than a tumble from the saddle to break open the newly granulated tissue and initiate the start of blood gushing once more. Not daring to take my eyes off him, I prayed silently that we’d arrive at the boat in one piece, and without incident. My heart was lodged in my throat until we reached our destination.

The horses continued to race at a good clip, going a roundabout way, staying off the main roads. We gingerly rode the horses down an incline and came to a secluded cove where a boat was docked, a man inside, waiting for us.

Murtagh dismounted first. “This is where we part company, aye? Godspeed to ye both.”

Jamie slid from the saddle and spoke, “I thank ye, Murtagh, but I ken as the Sassenachs are searchin’ for ye as weel. I canna leave ye at their mercy, as they have none. D’ye think ye could come wi’ us?”

Shrugging, Murtagh replied, “I canna say as I thought ’bout that.”

“Weel, think fast, man, afore the tide recedes.”

“I’ll come if Claire has nay objection.”

Why would I object when he’d done so much for us? “Certainly not. We’d welcome you.”

“All right, then. Ian, help us unpack the animals.”

**. . . . .**

It was impossible to bring along Murtagh’s steed, as the small boat could barely accommodate us, let alone that massive creature. I thought the little man was going to cry as he bid a sad farewell to the beast.

Young Ian hugged us and gathered up all the reins. While doing so, Murtagh advised him. “Ye be good to Tàirneanach, now. I’ll be back agin’ someday to fetch him.”

Nodding, Ian answered, “Aye, I’ll treat him like he’s my own.”

He tapped Ian playfully to the side of his head. “Dinna get too attached, lad. I wouldna want ye weepin’ o’er the beastie, when I come by to collect him.”

Ian rubbed his head, and smiled, leading the horses away.

**. . . . .**

My poor husband was green the whole time we were aboard the ship. I had to keep two buckets beside the cot, one to catch his constant stream of vomit and the other to exchange when the necessity arose to pitch the contents of the first. Thank the heavens that the trip only lasted a day and a half.

Jamie was shaky, to say the least when we finally were aground. Murtagh and I had to shore him up on both sides, his legs wobbling horribly. Whatever would I do, if he fell and re-injured that thigh?  Bringing his _godfather_ with us was most definitely a _godsend_. And what his cousin did next was also a boon from heaven.

Murtagh shocked us by opening his sporran and displaying its remarkable contents. Jenny apparently had dug up the Fraser nest egg that had been buried in the family graveyard, and the heap of gold coins glittered in the afternoon sunlight. “I was to give ye this when ye embarked, but seein’ as I’m here wi’ ye, weel … here it is.”

I took a deep breath. “First things first then. Let’s find us some lodging, shall we?”

His land-legs ultimately returning, Jamie walked with us unassisted to an inn where we obtained rooms for the night, and a bit to eat. While waiting for the food to be served, Murtagh and Jamie inquired about housing among the customers to see if any cottages were available to let. There was no person in attendance who could provide what we sought, but some of them steered us to the appropriate landlords, one of whom was a recent widow of the late Kyle Birney.

We went to a nearby stable, for the use of some horses, and were quickly on our way to Glendrynoch, to seek out Taryn Birney.

The widow in question looked to be approximately in her mid-thirties, petite, with light brown hair, large hazel eyes, and dimpled cheeks. She was flanked by her two children, a boy, Robert, of about nine or so, and his younger sister, Annis, at five years of age.

**# # # # #**

Murtagh took an immediate likin’ to the lady in question, which surprised Claire and me. He e’en had a smile for the lass. Were his bachelor days ’bout to be disrupted. The man was fair beamin’! He took off his tam o’ shanter, and ran a hand thru his hair, tidin’ himself op a bit, I expect.

Claire’s eyebrows rose, as she glanced at him, then me. I shrugged, but there was nay doubt ’bout it. The mighty Cupid had taken my godfather prisoner, and he didna look to be mindin’ much.

Taryn seemed relieved as we came to inquire ’bout the stead.

Mistress Birney, My name is James Fraser, and this is my wife, Claire, and my godfather, Murtagh Fraser.”

“My pleasure to meet ye all. I’ve been a widow these many months, and truth be told, I prayed as someone would come to see about the croit.”

“Croit?”

“Aye. The house sits back aways, beyond Beauly Ridge. I can give ye a half hectare to go wi’ it, unless bein’ a crofter willna be to yer likin’.”

“Och … I’d like it fine.”

“Huuh …” She let out a breath. “Come in and set yerself down then. Can I bring ye some tea?”

“That would be lovely,” Sassenach added.

Murtagh stepped forward. “D’ye need some help?”

“I can manage, but I thank ye for the offer, Mr. Fraser.”

“It’s Murtagh.”

Claire gave him a curious look, and his cheeks burned a flamin’ red.

Taryn turned to enter the kitchen. “Robbie, take yer sister to yer room now. Mama has somethin’ to discuss wi’ these fine people. Shoo.”

She returned with a tray, settin’ it down on a wee table by my chair. Pourin’ the tea into our individual cups, she informed us, “My brother’s been comin’ round to see ’bout the animals and such, but he’s immigratin’ to the colonies come next week. I was so worrit o’ what I was to do. I canna tend e’erthin’ by myself.

“If ye take the place, I’ll no charge ye for rent. In exchange, if ye could do for the horses and such, and bring in the barley?”

“It would be a privilege, lass.”

“Why Murtagh, thank ye. I hope to form a bond o’ friendship with ye. I can read people easy like, and I can tell, we’ll be fast friends.”

“I should like that.”

Claire was shakin’ her head in wonderment as she sipped at her tea. Murtagh was no only smilin’, but he wasna bein’ his usual irascible self.

Continuin’ her conversation, she said, “Any vegetables ye grow, ye can keep for yer table. And feel free to add hogs, and goats, and whatever beasts ye see fit to raise. Ye can stable yer horses wi’ mine ’til ye have a proper one built for them. Come tomorrow, I’ll have time to show ye the place … that is, if ye’ve set yer mind to take it.”

The eyes in Murtagh’s head gleamed, and he nodded enthusiastically. I echoed his feelin’s. “Aye, we’ll be back then in the morn.”

My godfather took Taryn’s hand at the doorway. “I’m verra glad to have met ye, Mistress Birney.”

“Ye may call me, Taryn.”

“Taryn,” he murmured. “Taryn …”

 

 

 


	10. Skye Fall

   

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* * *

 

The sound o’ rocks scuddin’ along the windows woke me from a sound sleep. I peered o’er the sill, amazed to see my godfather lookin’ op at me, his hands fisted ’bout the reins o’ three horses.

 

“It’s mornin’ lad, time to get to the Birney’s croft.”

Stars and stones, he appeared to be clean-shaven; I scarcely recognized him, if no for his voice.

“If ye were no my kin, I’d see fit to box yer ears. Why in god’s name are ye here so early o’ a morn?”

He yelled loud enough for the whole o’ the island to hear. “Are we goin’ to the widow Birney’s croft, t’day, or no?”

“Aye, but there’s no use in starvin’ ourselves afore we go. Hitch op the horses, and meet us for breakfast, aye?”

Murtagh led the animals to a hitchin’ post, and mutterin’ all the while, joined me at the table. “Now what’s so blessed important as ye had to wake op me and the Mrs.? It couldna wait a wee bit?”

Claire walked in at that moment, coming toward us. Wi’ raised eyebrows at seein’ my godfather all shaved and wi’ clean clothes and polished boots, said, “Isn’t it obvious. Your godfather is anxious to see the lady crofter.”

My godfather refused to meet my eyes, but the rapid change in his color confirmed our suspicions. I ne’er thought I’d see the day when Murtagh would fall. Och … and it gladdened my heart to see it so. My only hope was as he should be happy as Claire and me, if it came to that.

**# # # # #**

Murtagh was in love, and I was pleased. While Jamie and I were still in the throes of passion in spite of the length of our marriage so far, it seemed wrong to flaunt our never-ending honeymoon in his face. He deserved some happiness as well. The love of a good woman would be just the ticket to ensure that.

We finished up our meal and mounted our horses. I’d never seen Murtagh so jittery. He was on a mission, and Jamie and I were holding him back. We couldn’t make the animals move fast enough to suit him. He called to us, several times, in fact, making comments such as: “Can ye no keep op?” Or: “Jesus, Mary, and Bride! We’ll ne’er arrive in time, if ye continue to poke along.”

Jamie answered in a patronizing tone, “Dinna fash, Murtagh. The widow willna be sailin’ off to ports unknown afore we get there.”

His godfather would make one of those rude Scottish noises in response, and gallop on ahead.

**. . . . .**

Mistress Birney was already hitching up two mules to a dray, and the children were seated in the back, their legs dangling over the edge.

Murtagh jumped down from his horse as if his breeks were on fire, and tethered the beast to the hitching post. “Good day to ye, Taryn. Might I help ye wi’ the mules?”

Her cheeks colored, and she cast her eyes down at the grass. “It’s verra kind o’ ye, Murtagh. I expect I’ll let ye do just that.”

I asked her, “Is there anything else we can do to help?”

“Ah, nay, lest ye wanta take these weans off my hands.”

Annis let out a shriek and Taryn turned toward the sound to ascertain what mischief Robert was up to.

“Robbie, dinna be pullin’ yer sister’s hair, if ye know what’s good for yer rear end.”

Sticking out her tongue, Annis taunted her brother, “That’ll teach ye, stupid numpty.”

“I’m certain ye provoked him, Annie. And I’m also certain as my switch can last thru’ two whippin’s. So ye’d best keep yer insults to yerself.”

Snickering, Robert nodded, then looking smug, rocked back, leaning on his elbows.

**# # # # #**

My cousin left his horse behind, and sat in the driver’s seat, wi’ the widow close beside him. The croft wasna verra far away, and we could see the place after ridin’ only ’bout half a mile. It was a surprise to me as how big the house was. It was in need o’ some fresh thatchin’, and had a broken window or two, but it would suit us fine, and Murtagh’s room would be far enough away from us as to no interfere wi’ our intimate affairs.

There was much cleanin’ to be doon on the inside. I looked to Claire, and she shrugged. “I’m not afraid of hard work, Jamie.”

“Aye, that’s a fact. So, I expect we’ll take it then.”

“Oh bless ye, Mr. Fraser. D’ye think ye can move in by the morrow.”

Murtagh interrupted, “Oh, aye, surely that can be arranged.”

Sassenach and I rode back to the inn. Murtagh stayed behind, offering to tend the widow’s animals and such.

**# # # # #**

Unhitching the mules, Murtagh led them, along with his mount to the stable. He mucked out the soiled straw, curried the equines, and fed the menagerie, then filled the troughs with fresh water from the well.

Taryn ventured outside, calling to him to join her family for lunch. With the chores completed, he entered the home with a smile on his face and dug into his food. Taryn passed the test; the food was amenable to his palate.

While he was seated at the table, however, he seemed to be tongue-tied. Mind, he never was much of a conversationalist, to begin with, but his words, while substantially measured, had heretofore been freely articulated without a problem. Now he was flustered and stumbling over each sentence.

After the food was consumed, the children went out to play. Murtagh’s curiosity peaked and had him flummoxed. He was aching to ask her an important question—but how to go about it, aye?

The man cleared his throat, hoping the words would come out right, and not upset the lass. Taking a much-needed breath, he blurted, “Might I ask ye somethin’ ’bout yer past?”

Taryn began to remove the dishes from the table. “Why, of course. Ask what ye will.”

He turned in his seat to face her. “I dinna ken how to put this to ye.”

“It’s all right, Murtagh. Whate’er it is … just say yer piece, and have it doon.”

Clearing his throat, he said, “How long has it been since yer late husband left this life?”

“It’s been ten months or so, I expect.”

That was a relief to hear, and he began to breathe easier. Only two more months and the period of grieving would be concluded.

“Weel, I was wonderin’ if it might be possible as I could … court ye.”

“I would verra much like that, Murtagh. It’s been lonely here, and I confess, I miss a man’s touch.”

His face softened, the fear etched on it vanished, and he smiled comfortably. He rose from his seat to help clear away the rest of the cups and utensils, when she turned the tables on him.

“And what o’ yer history? Have ye been marrit afore?”

“Nay. There was nary an opportunity.”

“I see. I suppose I must forgive ye for fulfillin’ yer needs elsewhere then, aye?”

“If ye mean whorin’; I ne’er spent a hae-penny on a whore, nor ruined any a poor maiden.”

One of her eyebrows cocked. “Glad I am to hear that confession.”

“Truth be told, I was busy clashin’ swords wi’ the likes o’ the redcoats, and had nay time amongst the womenfolk, nor did I e’er meet a lass in my travels as appealed to me as ye do.”

“Oh my, what little words ye do speak; they are sufficient to make my heart flutter so.”

**# # # # #**

Before starting out to our new home, we three bought a wagon and a fine horse for each of us. We then filled the cart with needed supplies to clean, repair and furnish the place. This, of course, was complete with seeds for my garden. Jamie promised to build me a greenhouse so we’d have vegetables for a longer growing season. We’d certainly be busy little bees, but happy bees.

Jamie was coddling me when we proceeded to make the place livable, commanding me to rest after every hour or so. He and Murtagh did all the heavy lifting and thatching, so it wasn’t as if I was working on a chain gang. By evening of that day, the roof was repaired, and the broken windows replaced. The house was by no means a palace but it was sufficient for our needs. I felt I could actually be content here.

A rush of joyfulness filled my soul as we slept in our own beds this night. And when I awoke in the morning, gazing at Jamie’s beloved countenance, I couldn’t contain the impulse to trace the planes of face, his nose, his lips, the light blond tips of his lashes. His eyelids fluttered open, and his smile broke upon his features like the burst of dawn.

“Mornin’, Sassenach.”

“Yes, it is.”

“We’d muckle best get on wi’ it then, aye.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

**. . . . .**

I got dressed, and wandered out to the kitchen area, calling to Murtagh. There was no answer. I knocked on his bedroom door, and still, only silence met my ears. I carefully cracked the door open an inch and peeked in. His bed was made, and he was gone, no doubt visiting a certain young widow. Well, it wasn’t like I could do anything about the situation. After all, he was a grown man. More power to him.

Jamie worked at the stead with Murtagh, in addition to caring for Taryn’s place. When the chores at the Birney’s were done, his godfather opted to stay there and canoodle, I imagine, with the lady. This went on for several weeks with no sign of diminishing enthusiasm. Then one day, Murtagh returned earlier than usual when Jamie was at the feed store. I was in the kitchen chopping some vegetables for dinner. He sidled up to me and said, “Claire d’ye have a minute to spare?”

I put down the knife and wiped my hands on my apron. “I always have time for you, Murtagh; what is it?”

“Och … ye see, me and the widow, we get along verra weel, and I was wonderin’ what it is as makes you and Jamie so happy in yer marriage?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking Jamie?”

“Aye. And I will, but I wished to get a woman’s estimation first.”

“Oh, all right. I guess it’s because Jamie treats me as an equal. He asks for my opinion on any matters that concern both of us; he values what I have to contribute. He’s kind and gentle—that’s not to say that we don’t have our arguments, and it’s usually out of fear for one another’s safety. We both have tempers as you well know, but we never go to bed angry. And Murtagh … Jamie knows that strapping me is not the way to induce obedience. He did that only once, and it nearly destroyed our marriage.

“As for my part, I try to give him the respect he deserves, for the work he does, and for protecting me.”

I smiled at him. “Does that help?”

He nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I expect so.”

“So, are you thinking of getting married?”

“I’ve thought ’bout it, but havna discussed it wi’ Taryn yet. D’ye think she’ll have me?”

“Oh yes, I most certainly do.”

**. . . . .**

That night as we were getting ready for bed, Jamie exclaimed, “I canna believe my ears. Ye say he actually told ye as he plans to get marrit to the woman.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Aren’t you happy for him?”

“Oh, aye. It just came as a bluidy shock is all. I hope Taryn is right for him, mind.”

“I believe she is. And Murtagh _is_ a good judge of character.”

“He gets on weel with Annis and Robbie too. Ah … I just thought, maybe he could have a bairn o’ his own as weel.”

Jamie helped me with my laces and snuggled behind me, his hands roaming over my pregnant abdomen. “How is _my_ wee bairn?”

“He’s fine. I’m fine; are you fine?”

Twirling me around to face him, he wiggled his eyebrows and in a suggestive tone, said, “I’ll be more than fine, when I get ye into my bed, and perform a husband’s duty. What say ye?”

“I say, yea! See to it, husband.”

I laughed as he scooped me up in his arms, and deposited me on the bed. It was a perfect ending to a perfect day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    


	11. The Harvest Home

  

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* * *

 

Jamie and I worked side by side, scythin’ the barley. I sent Robert to the shed to get us more string, needin’ him out o’ the way whilst I spoke to Jamie ’bout some important matters. “I talked to yer wife this day past.”

He wiped the sweat from his face. “Is that so?”

“Aye … and I wished to see if ye had an opinion on havin’ a lovin’ relationship wi’ yer woman.”

“Ye thinkin’ o’ gettin’ marrit then?”

We continued harvestin’ the field and bundlin’ op the grain. “I been thinkin’ on it, aye. I’m no gettin’ any younger, and I’d like to have a wee bit o’ company when I’m too auld to do for myself.”

“It is a comfort to be sure, but didna ye tell me as ye ne’er wished to get marrit?”

“That was afore I met Taryn. She’s a good woman, Jamie, and she’ll make me a fine wife.”

Tying several bundles wi’ lengths of string, Jamie set them opright agin’ the shock to dry. “What ’bout the weans? Have they taken to ye?”

I set another sheave on end, addin’ it to the stack. “It’s like this … Robbie follows me ’bout where’er I go. Annie is still a wee bit scairt o’ me, but I expect she’s comin’ ’round.

“So, have ye got any advice for yer godfather, or no?”

We walked back to the grain lying at the edge o’ the field. “I’m no an expert, but aye, there’s an opinion or two in my head. First o’ all, ye gotta show respect for yer wife.” He lifted four or five more bundles and strapped them to his back. I did the same and followed him to hear what more he had to say.

“And, dinna e’er tell her as her cookin’ isna fit for man nor beast. Let’s see now … Keep yerself clean. A woman isna likely to let a mingin sod into her bed to shive her. And stars and stones, tell her ye love her, no just when ye wish to bed the lass.”

I couldna help the flush in my cheeks, as I said, That’s somethin’ else I wanted to talk to ye ’bout.

“I’ve ne’er been wi’ a woman afore—I mean to say, in the carnal sense, ken?”

Jamie’s eyebrows rose, then he shrugged, and removin’ the sheaves from his back, placed them down to start a new shock, a bit o’ a distance from the first. “I’ll tell ye what Claire said to me. _Go slow and pay attention_. And make certain yer woman takes her pleasure first, mind. Else ye’ll no be havin’ many opportunities to take yer own pleasure, I expect.

“If I remember correctly, it was afore my weddin’ night as ye and Dougal told me as women dinna care much for it. Weel, I’m tellin’ ye different … they do, if ye make it so she begs ye for it.”

I pulled down my sheaves and stacked them next to Jamie’s. “Och … ye’re no foolin’ wi’ me now, aye?”

“Nay … a woman takes to it fine if her mate sees to it properly. Just ask what ye need to do to please her.”

I brushed at my arm, the awns stickin’ through my shirt and irritatin’ the skin underneath. “Somethin’ to think on.”

Jamie headed back toward the un-bundled grain. “One more thin’. All the men strap their women to make them obey. She’ll obey ye to be sure, but she’ll resent ye as weel, and that wilna make for a happy couple. If ye have a brain in yer head, ye’ll use yer strap to hold op yer kilt, and nothin’ else.

“Claire says as a woman was made from Adam’s rib to stand as equal at her husband’s side. She wasna taken from his head to rule o’er him, nor his foot to be trampled opon. I ken that to be so.”

I was astounded by the wisdom Jamie had at his disposal. “How’d ye get so smart for such a young lad?”

“I marrit a verra clever woman.” He winked at me. “Listen to yer wife, and ye’ll do as weel.”

**. . . . .**

The next day, I was goin’ bout my business waterin’ the animals and such, with Robbie followin’ in my footsteps. Jamie was at home wi’ his Sassenach, and Taryn was to market. I heard a loud wail come from inside the house. I ran to see what was what, and found Annis in the kitchen wi’ blood drippin’ from a verra deep cut on her hand.

Jesus, Mary, and Bride! Quickly, I grabbed a linen towel and wrapped it ’bout the wound. Annis kept a’cryin’, and so I couldna get the gist o’ what happened. Robbie complained o’ her caterwaulin’, sayin’, “Stop yer fussin’, Annie. Ye cry like a wee bairn. It canna hurt that bad awful.”

Turning to the boy, I scolded, “Dinna belittle yer sister. It maybe doesna hurt to a lad big as yerself, but to Annie …  Anaways, come along. Ye can ride Sally, and I’ll take Annie wi’ me on Bolt.”

I scooped op the wean and carried her out to the corral. After puttin’ the lass down for a minute whilst I saddled the beasts, I told her, “We’ll be goin’ to Auntie Claire’s. She’ll fix ye op right quick.”

I hoiked Annis opon the animal’s back, then climbed onto the saddle behind her. As the wean continued to cry, I clasped her to my breast, and wi’ one hand on the reins, and t’other pattin’ her back, I said, “Ye’re gonna be right as rain, a leannan. Auntie Claire is a gey fine healer. She’ll ken what to do.”

Jamie spotted us right off when we cleared the ridge and yelled to Claire as we came closer. She met us at the door and accepted Annis wi’ open arms.

Robbie argued, wantin’ to see the spectacle ’bout to unfold. I told him, “Ye best join Uncle Jamie outside. I’ll no have ye gettin’ in the way. It’s nay place for observation, mind? Now, go on.”

“Jings! I wanna watch.”

“No t’day, maybe next time, aye.”

“It’s no fair. I ne’er get to see anathin’.”

Jamie came to the door to fetch him. “One o’ the stallions has need o’ a shoe. Come wi’ me, and see ’bout it. I’ll let ye help.”

Huffin’, Robbie dragged his bahookie to the half-built barn wi’ my godson. 

 

**# # # # #**

The poor child suffered a deep laceration on the palm of her hand. I clicked my tongue, battling with the inevitable. The girl would need a few sutures, and I had nothing except a bloody dram of whiskey to offer for the pain. She refused to take it.

I placed her hand palm up on the kitchen table. “All right then. Murtagh, you’ll have to hold her hand still; she’s going to need stitches.”

Her lips quivered, and turning her sweet face toward him, she said, “I promise no to cry if ye hold me, Uncle Murtagh.”

“There’s a braw lass. I’ll hold ye, and I willna let ye go.”

She sniffled, and climbed onto Murtagh’s lap. I sutured the edges of the wound as rapidly as possible, and Annis only whimpered once or twice. Applying a poultice, I wrapped the hand up gently with a bandage, then gave her a bannock with butter and honey.

Murtagh looked up at me. “Thank ye, Claire.”

**# # # # #**

We all rode to the croft and I entered, setting Annis on her bed. As I rose to go, she caught the edge o’ my sleeve, and pleaded, “Will ye stay wi’ me, Uncle Murtagh?”

“Why surely, leastways ’til yer mum comes home.

“D’ye feel all right?”

“Oh, aye. It doesna hut so bad now, as Auntie Claire made me drink that tea.”

“I’ll have yer mum make ye some more later.”

Robert made a rude noise in his throat. “Ye’re no gonna boak, are ye?”

Annis sighed. “Nay, and I dindna cry neither, did I Uncle Murtagh?”

I sat on the mattress and held her hand. “Ye didna; I was verra proud o’ ye, lass.”

“Humph …” Robert retorted, and stormed from the room.

If I didna ken any better, I’d swear the lad was a bit jealous o’ his sister.

**# # # # #**

“How is it, Sassenach?”

Claire tossed her head. “I just had to put stitches in a little girl without benefit of an anesthetic. I feel awful.”

I put my arms ’bout her waist from behind and nuzzled the back o’ her neck. “Ye did yer best. That’s all ye can do, Lass.”

“But that poor little girl …”

Swingin’ her round to face me, I smiled and told her, “There is one thin’ tho’. I saw as she was clingin’ to Murtagh when they left. Perhaps this was the key in cementin’ that relationship.”

“That’s true. She asked to sit on his lap and hold her while I did the suturing. So I guess that every cloud _does_ have a silver lining.”

Silver linin’? “What d’ye mean by that?”

“It’s a saying. It means that something good came from a possibly horrendous situation.”

“Ah … I was just thinkin', can I take ye to our bed, and maybe line this situation wi’ a bit o’ yer silver?”

She laughed, and retorted, “Lead on, my handsome Highlander.”

**# # # # #**

I ventured to the Birney estate the next day to check on my patient, and to bring Taryn some herbs and how to use them for her daughter’s injury.

She made me a cup of tea, after I ascertained that Annis’ wound was healing nicely. We sat at the kitchen table, talking.

Taryn looked me square in the eye, and asked, “What can ye tell me ’bout Murtagh?”

“You mean besides his charm …?” Here I gave her an eye roll. Taryn giggled at my comment.

“Well, He’s honest, trustworthy, and a very hard worker. Not much of a conversationalist, though, as you’ve probably discovered for yourself. All in all, I’d say he’s a very lovely man.”

Taking a sip of the tea, I blurted, “Are you aware that Murtagh is in love with you.”

“Aye, I kent as much.”

“How do you feel about him?”

She colored at that remark. “Oh, my … I expect the feelin’s mutual.”

“That’s good to hear. I would hate for you to break his heart. He’s like a brother to me.”

“I would ne’er do such a thin’ to the man.”

Clearing my throat, I dredged up the courage to broach another subject. “You know, he confided to my husband that he’s very concerned about … How can I put this delicately?  Um, things of an intimate nature. He wishes to do well by you on your wedding night.”

“You’re sayin’ he means for us to wed?”

I put down my teacup. Now I did it. “Oh bloody hell, I guess I shouldn’t have said that. But now that I have, what do you intend to tell him when he asks for your hand?”

“In truth, I’d like nothin’ better than to be marrit agin, and I believe as Murtagh would make me a verra happy bride. He’ll have nay concerns on our first night t’gether. I’ll see to it.”

“That’s reassuring. I do have another question though. How do your children get on with him?”

“They get on wi’ him fine. Robbie worships the grass he walks on, and Annie … weel, e’er since the accident, I ken as she may love him more than I do.”

**. . . . .**

On the way to my home, a smile encroached upon my face, and wouldn’t leave for the longest time. I’d felt guilty for including Jamie’s godfather in our voluntary exile, but if he hadn’t come along, he’d live a hounded, lonely life.

That night after crawling into bed, Jamie asked me, “Sassenach, can I ask ye a personal question?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“All right then. Murtagh and Taryn will be gettin’ marrit soon, since her time o’ mournin is doon, for some weeks now. I’ve been thinkin’ on how they both love t’other, and will go into the marriage wi’ those feelin’s in their hearts.”

He grabbed my hand, kissing each knuckle. “What I wish to ken is … did ye have any feelin’s for me afore we got marrit?”

“I hardly knew you back then, Jamie. I liked you, but you realize that I had a husband in my own time, and I couldn’t reconcile myself to a forced marriage. My love for you crept up on me, little by little until it got to the point when I couldn’t see myself without you by my side. You are my world now, and I can’t leave you.”

“D’ye think as thin’s might o’ gone different if ye had loved me, and wed me o’ yer own free will?”

“Jamie … right this minute, I love you with my whole heart. Whether I came into the marriage with love or not, it’s irrelevant to what I feel now.”

“Good.”

He kissed me soundly and snuggled into me. “I thank ye for lovin’ me, Claire, truly. Ye’ve made me a verra happy man, and I dinna regret a single moment o’ our time t’gether.”

I drifted off with Jamie’s strong arms wrapped around me. How lucky I was to have a very amiable Scotsman for a mate.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. The Wedding and the Weans

  

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**. . . . .**

Jamie came from harvesting barley at the Birney’s estate with an invitation from Taryn. “She says, she’d be happy to see us at dinner come next evenin’. I told her we’d be glad to oblige her. Ye dinna think I spoke outta turn, do ye?”

“Certainly not. That would be lovely. It’ll be fun to see how Murtagh has charmed the family.”

**. . . . .**

We all sat at Taryn’s table. The food was excellent and listening to the children, an absolute treat. They weren’t the least bit shy discussing important matters. In fact, some of their comments were boldly stated.

Robert nonchalantly spouted, “Murtagh, are ye gonta marry my mum?”

“Robbie!” Taryn scolded, clearly embarrassed.

“Weel, I just wanta ken if he is or no.”

Murtagh smiled. “Would ye like that, lad?’

With his eyes shining brightly, Robert piped up, “Aye. That would be grand.”

“Then I suppose I will.”

Jamie touched his knee to mine and turned to me with an eyebrow quirked.

Taryn sputtered, “Murtagh, you dinna havta bow to Robbie. He’s a wean for pity’s sake.”

Her _wean_ furrowed his brow, placing his fork on his plate. “Dinna ye wanta be marrit to him, mum?”

“I … weel, that is to say …”

“Speak op, lass. We all wish to hear what ye havta say. D’ye wish to marry me, or no?”

Standing up, Taryn, turning a shade of red, blurted, “Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser. Are ye proposin’ to me at this table?”

Murtagh rose, and stepped toward her, falling on one knee. “Aye.”

He reached for her hand and kissed it. “Taryn Birney, ye ken as I love ye as my own flesh. Will ye have me then, to be yer husband?”

With tears in her eyes, she sputtered, “Oh, Murtagh, I will.”

He slid a hand into his sporran, and grasping a golden band, held it up for all to see. “This was my mother’s, and now it’s yers.”

Slipping it on her finger, he then stood and kissed her chastely.

We all applauded and cheered. I dabbed at my eyes with a napkin. This was surely an unexpected pleasure. I never dreamed it would happen this evening.

Annis raced up to Murtagh, tackling him about the knees. He lifted her to his shoulder. She kissed his cheek and asked, “Can I call ye Da, now?”

“If ye like …”

“Oh, I do. I love ye, Da.”

Robert groused, “I still wanta call ye, Murtagh.”

“It’s fine, Robbie. Ye dinna havta call me, Da, if ye dinna wanta.”

“Truly?”

“Aye, truly.”

**# # # # #**

I stood straightaway from my chair and raised a glass in a toast to the couple. “To Taryn and Murtagh, may ye be happy as Claire and I. And may ye e’er have clothes on yer backs, food on yer table, whiskey in yer casks, and love in yer hearts.”

“Amen,” they all answered.

Annis chirped, _Amen,_ along wi’ us, as loud as ye please, then belched just so, afterwards.

**. . . . .**

While we made our preparations for bed, Claire touched my shoulder, and asked, “Do you suppose they will be as happy as we are in our marriage?”

“Oh, aye. I expect so. They seem to fit t’gether, so to speak. He’s no one to order her ’bout, and she most likely willna abide it either.”

“Are you suggesting that’s she’s bossy like me?”

“Nay, I’m sayin’ she’s a woman as knows her own mind, just like my Sassenach.”

I pulled her op, eye to eye, and busied her lips wi’ mine. Then off to bed we trotted, arm in arm, to once more consummate _our_ marriage.

**. . . . .**

One month later, Murtagh and Taryn were marrit in the kirk at the neighborin’ town o’ Carbost. I watched as he stood at the altar, lookin’ a smidge green. I’d ne’er seen him that color afore. I swear on my mother’s grave as he was shakin’ in his boots. Taryn, tho’, seemed right fine as she took her vows. And wi’ one kiss from his bride, the muckle green all but faded away from his face, a smile spreadin’ across it.

Claire and I brought the weans home wi’ us, so Murtagh and Taryn could have a proper weddin’ night. At first, Annis was upset as she couldna go wi’ them. She hesitated in the roadway, reluctant to climb into the dray, and asked my Sassenach, “Why canna I go wi’ my mum and da?”

Claire hunkered down to look in the wee lassie’s face as she said, “I imagine they’d wish to be alone tonight.”

Annis blinked in confusion, her bright blue eyes starin’. “But why?”

Takin’ her by the hand, Claire led her to the cart. “Someday, when you’re older, you’ll understand.”

“But I wanna ken now.”

“Annis,” Claire spoke sternly. “They need to get to know each other better.”

“Hmnph …” she pouted. “They already do.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s only for one night.”

She helped the lass onto the wagon. Annis stuck out her lower lip. “I’ll ask Uncle Jamie. He’ll tell me why.”

“He better not,” Claire muttered.

**# # # # #**

Jamie walked by us, with Robert in tow, ready to hoik him up beside Annis. He smirked at me, obviously privy to the whole conversational rondo.

“How is it, Sassenach?”

“Not good. Annie would like to know why she and Robbie can’t accompany Taryn and Murtagh on their wedding night.”

“Ah … I see.”

“Aye. Why is that?” Robert interjected.

“Och …” Jamie scratched his chin. “It’s verra hard to explain to young weans such as yerselves.”

Puffing out his chest, Robert declared, “I’m old enough.”

“So, ye are. But it’s like this, Robbie. They’ll be huggin’ and kissin’ and whisperin’ sweet words to each other, and it wilna do for ye to be makin’ silly noises and such. It would spoil the mood, ye ken?”

Robert nodded. “I expect so.” He turned to his sister. “Let’s no make a fuss. Mum wouldna like us to cause any trouble.”

Annis frowned. “I still dinna see why we havta go to Uncle Jamie’s.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll take ye wi’ me to have a keek at the new foal. It’s just three days old.” 

With arms crossed on her chest, Annis retorted, “I saw it already.”

Jamie intervened. “All right then. D’ye wanta go fishin’ in the brook?”

Robert brightened at the suggestion. “Oh, aye.”

“I dinna like fishin’,” Annis complained. “They stink bad awful, and the mosquitoes bite me all over.”

“Well, I believe I have a remedy for that,” Claire offered.

Her eyes widened. “Ye can make the fish stop their stinkin’?”

Jamie and I burst out laughing.

“That’d be a bit o’ magic if Auntie Claire could perform that feat. I expect she was talkin’ ’bout chasin’ away the mosquitoes. When we get to the house, she can show you all her vials and potions for curin’ ills and killin’ off all sorts o’ pesty bugs.”

**. . . . .**

Annis enjoyed seein’ and smellin’ all the herbs and such in the medicine hutch I made for them. Claire did a bit o’ explainin’ ’bout each one and demonstrated how to grind op the plants to make a tincture. The wee lass seemed to be rapt in awe for a while, then her attention began to fade.

**# # # # #**

I could tell by the dullness of her eyes that this discourse in _alchemy_ was very likely beginning to diminish in interest. So I said, “I have some pastels. Would you like to draw some pictures?”

Nodding, Annis eagerly followed me to the writing desk where I kept my ink, quills, paper and of course, my pastels. Finally, I found something to occupy her time and free up mine.

That evening as we put the children to bed in Murtagh’s room, Annis begged, “Can ye tell us a story? Da always tells us a story afore we havta go to sleep.”

Well, that was a surprise. Murtagh telling stories? “What sort of stories?” I asked.

Robert piped up. “Some are verra funny, and some are scary, like when he killed Black Jack Randall!”

My eyes bulged from my head. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Was that a tale to tell little children? I was surprised it didn’t elicit night terrors.

“I really don’t think that type of story is appropriate for you.”

Annis sat up in the bed. “Why? We liked it.”

She turned to my amused Scotsman. “Uncle Jamie, can ye tell us a story, then. One wi’ lots o’ swords and blood, and guts.”

“Oh, aye. How ’bout the time when I went on a boar hunt.”

“Oooooh,” Annis responded.

Robert sat upright beside his sister, in anticipation, while I excused myself to turn down our bed.

**# # # # #**

By and by, Jamie joined me in the bedroom.

“Really, Jamie ... Do you suppose an account of a bloody boar hunt would be suitable when those children are ready to turn in for the night?” 

“They swallowed ever’ word. Ye shouldha seen their wee faces.”

“And they didn’t throw up once?” I teased in a facetious manner.

“Nay. Truly, they enjoyed ever’ minute. I canna wait to tell stories to my own bairn.”

“Hold on, I forbid you to tell our child about a beastly boar hunt. Honestly …” I clicked my tongue.

Jamie came up behind me, his arms around what was left of my waist. “No boar hunt, aye? Weel, I could say what we did on our weddin’ night. Ye ken how curious the weans were ’bout the goin’s on with their mum t’day.”

I spun around to face him. “James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, don’t you dare tell that to our child.

“I’ll explain the facts of life to him if you don’t mind.”

He winked at me mischievously. “I’m sure ye’ll do it justice, Sassenach. Ye instructed me proper.”

“I most certainly did. Now come and show me what you learned.”

Chasing me around the bed, he caught me easily since carrying his child slowed me down somewhat. I shrieked, and unfortunately, Annis heard it and padded into our room.

“Uncle Jamie, dinna be mean to Auntie Claire.”

“It’s fine, Annie. I was only startled. He wasn’t hurting me.”

“What was he doin’ to ye then?”

“When ye’re older, ye’ll ken weel what was goin’ on,” Jamie explained.

Annis huffed loudly. “I’ll ne’er be old enough,” she muttered as she walked back to her room.

Jamie smiled, pulled aside my shift to expose my shoulder, and proceeded to display his knowledge of connubial pleasures, thanks to my explicit instructions. Happily for me, he’d been a very apt student.

**. . . . .**

Taryn and Murtagh returned the next afternoon, fairly beaming in newlywed bliss. They both seemed relaxed, and well, happy … as they should be. Jamie squeezed my hand as they parted with their children. I felt they had made a good start.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. A Wayward Midwife

  

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That evening I thought about what it would be like when the house was filled with children of our own. I lay in bed, one hand creating circles on my swollen abdomen. It wouldn’t be long now—three or four weeks at the most. Jamie nuzzled my neck, and joined me in my circular ministrations, singing a Scottish lullaby. I soon fell asleep.

 

Three weeks had come and gone, and I was becoming exceedingly cranky. I couldn’t see my feet, had leg and back pains if I stood for too long a time, and my ankles had grown to twice their size. How could Jamie stand to look at me? Or put up with my increasingly volatile temper for that matter. The man was a saint.  I wanted nothing more than to have this child in my arms and out of my womb. All cordial feelings of motherhood had fled my mind. What was the good lord thinking when he conjured up the idea of carrying a child in one’s body? Why couldn’t we carry the fetus about in a pouch like a kangaroo? That would certainly be an improvement on this nonsense.

My midwife visited and said labor would probably start in another day or two. Margrit was from Prussia. She had oodles of experience, and I went with her at a few births. Her aseptic technique was flawless. Indeed, I watched her like a hawk. It was not in my interests to die of childbed fever, thank you very much. I felt secure that I was in able hands.

As predicted, two days later, the cramps began and intensified so much so that they had awakened me. I nudged Jamie in bed. He turned over and continued to snore.

“Jamie,” I whispered. “It’s time.”

“Hmn …” he mumbled, sleepily.

I sat up. “Jamie, this baby is coming.”

He blinked, sitting up abruptly. “Ye mean, now?”

“Of course, I mean now. Can you ride over to Margrit’s, and tell her to come quickly.”

 He kissed me tenderly, and hopped out of bed, dressing as fast as possible.

“Aye.”

“Can you tell Taryn as well? I’m certain she’d be willing to can stay with me until Margrit arrives.”

**# # # # #**

I’d been ’round women ’bout to give birth, and kent as it would take a good long time, but still, I raced to Taryn’s. It wouldna do for my wife to be alone and in pain. I expected she’d be scairt as well, tho’ she’d most probably deny it. O’ a truth, I was scairt enough for the both o’ us. Whilst the idea o’ my own wee bairn was a pleasure to be sure, the chance of losin’ my Sassenach was no atall.

I rapped at Taryn’s door. Murtagh came to greet me.

“Ah … Jamie. What’s amiss?”

“The bairn is comin’ this night. Can ye see fit to lend me yer wife for a few hours, afore the midwife arrives?”

“Aye. I’ll go fetch her.”

Murtagh left the door open for me to enter. Taryn came outta the bedroom, bustlin’ ’bout, gatherin’ a few thin’s into a basket. We then ventured out to the stable, where I saddled op Taryn’s mare. Quickly then, she was on her way to our home. That eased my mind a bit, as I spurred my animal on to Margrit’s place.

**. . . . .**

The Thomann farm wasna a great distance from ours, but I was met by her husband who told me, “Dis ist not gud. It rains, yet it pours, as dey say. Frau Thomann ist at de MacLachlan’s. De lady dere ist about to bring twins inta dis vorld. She vast not due for dat until de next month. My vife vill no doubt be dere for half de following day.”

God in heaven, my heart was tryin’ to leap from my chest. “What am I to do? Is there someone else as can come wi’ me?”

“Ah, let me see. Ya, I believe der ist Frau Metzger, oh … but she ist visiting mit her mudder, I recall. Dat leaves de vidow, Erin O’Malley. She lives up aways on tistle ridge. Ist de cottage mit de grey stones, und a big pine tree in de front yard.”

I bowed, politely, sayin’, “Thank ye, truly.” I turned and ran to my wagon, clickin’ my tongue, and flickin’ the reins to get the horses movin’.

I found the stead wi’out much trouble atall. The widow answered the door, fully dressed—wrinkled, but nonetheless … Did she sleep in the thin’? Her hair was wild, and a flamin’ red, more so than mine; her eyes, as weel.

“Sorry to wake ye, Lass, but Mistresses Thomann, and Metzger are no available. I was advised as ye could help my wife wi’ the birthin’ o’ our first bairn.”

“Oh, Christ … I’ll be right out, as soon as I get my kit t’gether.”

She went into the kitchen area and returned wi’ a satchel filled wi’ her equipment I expected. I helped her op into the dray, as she was a might wobbly … half asleep, perchance.

Wi’ a grunt, she complained, “To be sure, I wasna expectin’ visitors this e’ening, Mr. …”

“It’s Fraser.”

“Ah, and yer wife then is the healer they talk ’bout ’round these parts. Is that right?”

“Aye.”

“Lordy …” she muttered.

**# # # # #**

I was on veritable tenterhooks, waiting for the arrival of anyone to help me. Seeing Taryn’s friendly countenance as she come through my bedroom door with basket in hand, calmed me somewhat. I didn’t want to admit to Jamie how petrified I actually felt. Women died like flies in this day and age due to childbirth—Jamie’s mother being a prime example. Oh lord, I hoped he wouldn’t fall apart on me; that would certainly throw a spanner into the works.

“I’m very glad to see you, Taryn.”

She put down her basket, and sat on the bed, taking my hand. “I couldn’t let ye stay here by yerself wi’ Jamie gone and all.”

“Thank you. However, he should be here shortly. Margrit doesn’t live far away, so you shouldn’t have to sit with me for very long.”

“I expect ye’re right ’bout that. Weel, I’ll get some water boiling and such, so it’ll be ready for her when she comes.” She puttered about at the hearth, pouring water into a cauldron, from a wooden bucket set nearby.

**. . . . .**

I heard the creak of the wagon wheels outside the croft. Jamie walked in beside a slight woman with a bush of red hair on her head, and a disheveled appearance.

Sitting up, I asked, “Isn’t Margrit coming?”

“Nay, she’s busy elsewhere, this is Mistress Erin O’Malley.”

Breathing slowly through my mouth as another contraction started, I sat up. Erin immediately spoke, “This be women’s work here, Lad. Best ye be off and let us get on wi’ it.”

Jamie looked at me wistfully, then coming toward me, leaned down and placed a soft kiss upon my mouth. “I’ll no be far from ye, Claire. Call me if ye have need o’ me.”

**. . . . .**

“Claire, is it?”

I nodded.

“Weel, let’s see what’s what, shall we?” The woman lurched forward, nearly tumbling onto me. “Beggin’ yer pardon, mam. ’Tis these slippery new shoes, so ’tis.”

I looked over at Taryn who was frowning.

The woman rucked up my shift, and palpated my abdomen, ascertaining the size and position of the baby. “I predict an easy birth for the two o’ ye, to be sure. The babe’s settled down right where he should be. A few hours and ye’ll have a wee one sucklin’ at yer breast.”

Wincing as another pain delivered its brutal pounding, I finally added, “That’s reassuring.”

**. . . . .**

Two hours went by, and the pains were getting stronger and more frequent, but I refused to cry out or scream in an undignified manner. A few groans may have slipped out of my mouth, but that was all. I could do this. Stiff upper lip, and all that … Jamie had been through far worse.

Erin didn’t seem to do much of any use to me, except to lift something from her bag every once in a while. With her back to us, it was difficult to see what she was in fact, doing. She did check my abdomen again, and offered, “I can check yer inside parts if ye like. That way we can tell how fast ye’re gettin’ on.”

Stumbling again, before reaching the bed, she put her hands on my thighs. Trying my best not to seem impolite, I urged, “The basin on the highboy is filled with water, and there’s soap lying on the towel.”

Her speech was slurred. I’d thought I had imagined it earlier. “I’ll do that later when the babe is born.”

“Um … I’d prefer you to wash your hands first before touching me.”

She jerked at the insinuation. “Weel … highty-tighty now, are we, Mistress Fraser?”

Taryn’s mouth dropped open, as did mine. The cheek of the woman. I was so glad Taryn hadn’t left me with this charlatan.

O’Malley was teetering at this point. As she came closer I noticed the distinct smell of alcohol on her breath.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Of all the bloody luck. Giving birth with a drunkard in attendance.

With the meanest scowl I could muster under the circumstances, I hissed, “You are not touching any part of me again unless your hands are clean.”

Her fists found her slight hips, while she saucily declared, “Oh, it comes out now, so it does. The Irish aren’t good enough to serve the likes of ye Brits.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.”

“I don’t accept your damnable apology, I …” Erin staggered, hitting the wall, and slid down it, passing out.”

Taryn shot up from her seat, as I cried, “Jamie, I need your help!”

My Scotsman bolted through the door, nearly tearing it from its hinges. His eyes bugged out of his head as he perceived the senseless form lying in a heap on the floor.

“Stars and stones. Whate’er has happened to her?”

I placed one hand on my abdomen as another contraction began. “Please get her out of the room. Don’t worry, she’s not dead, only sozzled.”

Taryn explained, “I expect she was nippin’ this whole time … dreadful woman.”

She walked across to Erin’s bag and looked inside. “Aha! I’ve found the culprit.”

She held up a bottle of whiskey, and Jamie swore under his breath. “I kent that somethin’ was amiss, and so I stayed to be sure things would be put to right. I believe I can handle thin’s from here. After all, I’ve had two bairns o’ my own, and another on the way. It won’t be long now.”

Did she say another on the way?

“Oh, Taryn. I’m so happy for you.

“Oh … oh. Goddammit! These bloody pains. When will this child be born?”

Taryn smiled at Jamie. He shrugged, looking a smite shamefaced, and scooped the inebriated woman into his arms, carrying her out to the other room.

**# # # # #**

I kent as my woman wouldna shame herself by makin’ a stramash in wailin’ and carryin’ on, but her ever’ quiet moan pierced me to my soul _. Ah … my Sassenach. Why d’ye havta suffer so? I’d take the blows for ye if only I could. Please, Lord, let the bairn be here soon and put Claire outta such misery as I caused her._

When I heard Claire call out my name, I swear to god as my heart stopped its beatin’. I crashed through the bedroom door only to be met by the sight of the skinny-malinky, sprawled out opon the floor. Did the poor lass faint? Ye’d suppose as she’d be used to seein’ blood and such. But then, a worrisome thought came opon me. Christ, I hoped she wasna dead. What would I do, if she was?

My breathin’ came easier when the women explained as Erin was fair pickled from drink. Nay longer afeared for the worst, I was now bluidy angered to think as this midwife would attend to a helpless lass, bein’ insensible o’ her own actions. I’d see to it as she wouldna be tendin’ to any other unwary females on their birthin’ beds.

Hoistin’ the drunkard into my arms, I quickly deposited her limp body to the settle in t’other room. I returned to my Sassenach, but Taryn shooed me away. She poked her head out shortly thereafter tho’, wi’ a metal tray in her hands. On it were silver instruments, which she instructed me to place in the cauldron o’ boilin’ water. She also told me to pour some o’ the water onto the tray. When I finished, she said. “The bairn is comin’ fast now, so ye just wait back out there wi’ the bladdered wretch ’til ye hear the wean caterwaulin’.”

**. . . . .**

I couldna sit what wi’ my wean ’bout to appear, and I paced back and forth, waitin’ and waitin’ to hear the first cry. And then, there it was, a glorious sound; my own sweet bairn sayin’ hello to the world.

Tappin’ on the door, I asked, “Are ye all right, Sassenach? Can I see ye now? Oh, and the wean as weel.”

Taryn opened the door, and allowed me to step inside. Claire was sittin’ op, lookin’ as bonny as e’er, holdin’ the wee bundle in her arms. I could see from the doorway, that the child had muckle, red, curly hair like mine.

Racin’ to her side, I dropped to my knees. Taryn took my bairn from Claire and placed him in _my_ arms. I was quickly apprised that my wee one was no a lad but a lassie.

“Her name is Brianna Claire.”

“Aye, thank ye, Sassenach.”

I peered down at the miracle as was mine, and let the tears fall as they might.

 

 

 

 

 


	14. A life of Contentment

  

Banner by LOS

* * *

 

Taryn was a wonder. I couldn’t have brought forth this child without her tender care. She encouraged me to bear down, even when I was so tired it felt useless, but with one final desperate push, I heard that magnificent wail. I sat up just before she placed my sweet baby in my open arms, and burst into tears of joy. My curly haired, ginger, so like her father, gazed up at me with those blue-grey eyes. I was in a haze of wonder for a bit, and thoughts of the future filled my mind.

 

There was a rap at the door, and Jamie’s voice softly asking for permission to enter the birthing sanctuary. When he tip-toed into the room, he looked the worse for wear. I imagined he was frightened down to his boots, especially remembering the demise of his mother during childbirth—and in addition, the fact that an inebriated midwife was attending me.

He glanced at Taryn who was beaming, and nodded that all was well. Striding across the room quickly, he fell to his knees by the bed. My friend lowered the infant into his arms, and the expression on his face was enough to melt a heart of stone.

Jamie chuckled quietly, and announced, “She’s a wee lassie, aye?”

“Yes, I know,” I answered, grinning.

“Are you pleased?” Silly question … as if the look of awe in his eyes wasn’t a clue as to what he was feeling at that moment.

“I canna believe as she’s truly mine. And of course I ken as we made her t’gether, but she’s her own person—apart from us, I mean.”

“And don’t ever forget that, Jamie. She’s ours … our daughter, but she’ll have a mind of her own.”

“Och … I dinna doubt that. Wi’ ye as her mother, I suppose she’ll most probably have verra strong opinions, and a bit o’ yer temper as weel.”

“You are _probably_ right, there.”

Taryn put out her arms to take Brianna from him so I could feed her. Jamie twisted away. “I’m no ready to give her to ye as yet. Can ye let me hold her for a wee bit longer?”

With one eyebrow quirked, Taryn retorted, “Seein’ as ye’re her da, I canna forbid ye, now can I?”

**# # # # #**

Murtagh came by the day, next, to retrieve his wife. I told him what happened, and he volunteered to take Erin to her home, and stop by and explain to Mr. Thomann what was amiss here night, last.

“She’ll nay see to my Taryn when the time comes ’bout. I expect the drunkard will be run off the ridge. And good riddance to the rubbish.”

The weans rushed into the cottage anxious to see my new bairn, as much as their mum, I expect. After fashin’ o’er Brianna, they left wi’ Murtagh leadin’ the midwife outside. The woman was fair-hung o’er when we shoved her onto the cart.

Robbie asked, “What’s wrong wi’ her, Murtagh?”

Taryn eyed him sharply. “Just ne’er ye mind. She doesna feel weel is all.”

“She walks funny,” Annis said, frownin’.”

Erin moaned, and held her head. “See how straight ye walk, when ye’ve a pint under yer belt. And ye don’t need to be shoutin’, lassie. For sure, we can all hear ye, we do.”

**. . . . .**

Margrit made it to our croft that evenin’, verra apologetic ’bout the misfortunate string o’ events, and assured us as O’Malley would nay longer be allowed to ply her trade amongst the women o’ the island. I didna care so much ’bout that as to be assured as my Claire would be all right.

I stayed at home as much as possible for several days so Sassenach could rest op and gain her strength back. I cradled Brianna when she fussed, and truth be told, I missed cuddlin’ wi’ the wean, as Claire took o’er her motherly duties. To say I was proud to be a father was nay a lie. My daughter was as dear to me as the precious woman who gave her life.

**# # # # #**

It wasn’t long before Brianna had a cousin, a baby boy named, Alexander Murtagh Fraser, and she was like a big sister to him.

Underestimating the virility of my sexually potent mate, Liam James followed his sibling two years later, and Jamie was thrilled. By the time the two of them had grown a couple of feet, he had instructed them both to fish, shoot a pistol, handle a bow, and use a dirk and broadsword.

It was gratifying to me how he doted on them. Jamie was definitely an exemplary father.

We had discussed discipline previous to any misbehavior among the children occurring, and one night while in bed, I remembered a particular conversation. I had vehemently protested the frame of mind that _over the fence_ switching was the thing to coerce obedience.  

“Jamie—you witnessed how I reacted when you dared to tan me. I don’t want you to perpetuate that barbaric tradition.”

“What d’ye propose we should do then, Sassenach?”

“Grounding.”

“And what d’ye mean by that?”

“I mean simply that the transgressor will not be allowed to leave the bedroom or the house for a certain period of time.”

“Ah, I see.”  He smirked at me. “That wouldna be such a punishment to bear in my case, woman.”

“In that case, I’d withhold your dinner or dessert or take away a favorite pastime for a while.”

Stroking my arm in a sensual way, he murmured, “And what pastime would that be?”

“Oh … I’ll think of something.”

“Aye. I expect so,” he cheekily replied.

**. . . . .**

Ten years had passed, and Jamie and I were as much in love as ever. We had thought about returning to Lallybroch, but it seemed the British were persistent in bringing the Jacobites to justice even after all this time had elapsed. In all honesty, this isle was our home now, and we were reluctant to leave it. Liam and Brianna had grown up here. Would they adapt to living in a foreign place such as Lallybroch? Brianna especially would have to say goodbye to her many friends, not to mention those of the opposite sex.

When our daughter turned fifteen, Jamie became a bear, protecting his cub. He was poking up the fire in the hearth when he huffed, and turning to me said, “The lads best mind their p’s and q’s if they wanta hold onto all their limbs, I’ll no have my wee lass trifled wi’.”

I laughed at his concern. “Wee lass? Jamie, she’s nearly as tall as you are, and just as handy with a sword, I might add.”

“Ne’ertheless,” he groaned, as he sat in the chair beside me.

One day, I overheard Brianna grumbling. “Da, the lads are afeared o’ ye.”

“Good.”

“Mama,” she yelled. Ye’ve gotta talk to Da. I’ll be an auld maid for sure if he doesna stop actin’ like a bluidy boar.”

Thankfully, neither of them had to wield a weapon against a suitor, and it came to pass that Brianna found a suitable mate and was happily married. Liam started up his own little croft and it wasn’t long until he too settled into a happy marriage.

**# # # # #**

Murtagh and I were out in the fields, reapin’ the barley to set aside for makin’ the malt for whiskey. As I bundled the grain, I thought ’bout how my life—if I lived atall—wouldha changed if Sassenach hadna disobeyed me and returned to Culloden. I was a happy man, blessed beyond my wildest dreams, and all because o’ my recalcitrant wife, and that’s the truth o’ it. I glanced at our home wi’ the smoke billowin’ out o’ the chimney, and smiled.

**The End**

**A/N: I have two more Outlander fanfics, but I'm moving to Texas, and so, I won't be posting for at least three weeks, hopefully. Until then, slainte mhath, aye?**

 

 


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